Daemonology
by ululate
Summary: Anna is a novice daemonologist in a world where the art of summoning and contracting with daemons is taught in college and regulated by the government, but she has always been one to leap headlong into things, irrespective of danger. (Elsana, non-incest, semi-modern AU I guess?)
1. Chapter 1

In the dangerous, but rewarding, science of Daemonology, one must bear in mind two rules, above all else. First; one must never leave their circle, for to do so is to break the fragile pact keeping the daemon contained. Second, and perhaps even more importantly, one must phrase every word of the contract with the utmost care, for daemons are wily, and a single mistake may allow them to cause untold evil in the world.

-An Introduction to Daemonology, Volume 1

* * *

Anna bites her lip, shifts from one foot to the other. The heavy tome falls from her numb, freckled, fingers. The cover glints gold in the light of cheap candles; "An Introduction to Daemonology." A smudge shows dark on the faux leather cover where Anna had dropped a slice of pizza.

Two eyes glint in the darkness as if glowing with inner light, but Anna knows it's just the reflected flames of the candles. She hopes it's just the light from the candles.

"God," she says. "This was a terrible idea."

The daemon winces. The runes Anna has painted on the pale wooden flooring flare unpleasantly. The cheap candles gutter and hiss. Oh god this was a terrible idea. Anna lets out a deflated squeak.

"What do you desire, mortal?" The daemon rasps. It looks almost human. Too human. Human, except for the curling black horns, and voluminous white feathery, wings.

"Um?" Anna says intelligibly. The books had warned her. The books had told her that daemons are tricksters. That they will assume whatever form they think most beneficial to themselves. Still though…

"Power?" The daemon raises one perfect brow. "Wealth? Immortality?"

"Um, nooooo," Anna says. "God no." The daemon flinches again. "I'm. Um. Shut up. I want to do this right."

"Of course," the daemon replies.

There are two rune-ringed circles, painted on the wooden floor. Aramaic, if Anna's books are to be believed. She stands in one, the daemon in the other. It's an arrangement as old as the science of Daemonology itself; no one in their right mind would treat with a daemon without protections. Anna wonders abruptly if it's entirely sane to summon one of those horrible creatures even _with_ bindings and circles. Anna glances down, searching for her book. There! Just outside her circle. She sighs. The daemon smirks.

"Shame," it says dryly.

"Shut up," Anna blushes.

"Oh!" It purrs. "I must be mistaken. I'm not your first, am I?"

"I said shut up!" Anna snarls.

"The first daemon you've ever summoned and you go for… me?" The daemon crosses its arms. "I don't know whether to be flattered or insulted."

"I want to make a deal," Anna says quickly. "A deal which, um," she screws up her face in concentration, "will not be altered once we both agree to it. And, um, you will not do anything that we don't agree to like eating my soul or something? Damn. I'm sure I'm forgetting something. Am I forgetting anything? Wait, no, you're a daemon. Why am I asking you?"

"This will be fun," it replies with an unsettling grin. "What do you want then, and what are you offering me in return?"

"I…" Anna trails off, then steels herself. Looks up boldly. Who will judge her, after all? The daemon? "I want you to give me a girlfriend!"

"A girlfriend?" The daemon snorts. "You summoned me, a daemon baron, just to give you a girlfriend?" It pauses for a second, and a wicked gleam comes into its eyes. "Supposing we did this deal, what would you offer in return?"

"Um," Anna sniffs. She wipes at her eyes quickly, hopes the daemon doesn't notice. "I… Well, certainly not my soul."

The daemon smiles. "How about your innocence? I would take that as payment."

"My…" Anna blinks. "I'm not innocent!"

"Then this deal costs you nothing," the daemon replies. Something about its grin sends chills running down Anna's spine like drops from a melting ice cube.

"Sure," Anna says. "What the hell. Sure!" When she looks up again, the daemon is gone, the candles extinguished. The harsh, electric whine of the lights rings unpleasantly in her ears as the chandelier overhead flickers back on. She blinks, bends to pick up her book, thinks better of it at the last moment. Clever daemon, almost got me. Anna grins, proud of her caution, and straightens slowly.

She rummages through her many pockets- ahah! Unused incense! She throws it into the daemon's circle, but nothing unexpected happens. Just a loose cloud of incense, drifting slowly to the floor, as if it were a legion of paratroopers dropping over Normandy. Anna shakes herself. She did it!

Anna grins fiercely. Her freckles stand out sharply in the harsh, electric, light. She did it! She really should clean up though. Put away the candles, sweep up the incense, do… something… with the painted, rune-rimmed circles.

Her phone rings, and she sighs with relief.

"Yellow," she answers, grimaces theatrically, though no one can see her. "Ugh. Shoot me if I ever say anything like that again."

"Not a chance red," comes the gruff reply.

"Kristoff!" Anna exclaims gleefully. "Guess what? Guess what?"

"Don't know. Tell me later," he says. "We're going out clubbing. Join us?"

Anna looks dubiously at the mess. She shrugs. "Sure!"

* * *

 **AN: Whelp. So this happened. I think it might have been because someone "informed" me that lesbian love is heresy, and, well, then I got drunk, and this was the result. They also said that one of my other stories was "the most heretical thing they have ever read," soooooo... challenge accepted!**

 **I would apologize, but quite frankly, I don't want to.**


	2. Chapter 2

All summoning kits contain a gag, from the most basic starter set, suited to nothing grander than a lowly imp, to the most elaborate, with safeguards meant to contain even one of the princes of hell. It must be used in all summonings. To do otherwise is a felony, punishable by up to two years in prison. Daemons are wily, and given even a single sentence, they will convince you to part with your soul for so little a price as a bowl of ice cream. Better to state what you want, and what you are offering. Allow the creature to assent or refuse, but never to give a counter offer, and certainly never to say what they want from you.

-Daemonology: Advice and Guidelines

* * *

"So…" Anna buries her face in her glass, enjoys the burn of alcohol in her throat. "I, um. I did it."

"You." Kristoff groans. "God damnit Anna. What did you give up?"

"It's not a big deal," Anna says. "You're the Daemonology major."

"For research!" Kristoff exclaims. "I didn't lend you my textbooks so you could…You said you were just going to use them to study. Prepare for college. God. Daemons are dangerous Anna. What did you give it? What about your singing career? What if someone finds out? Hmm? You'd be ruined!"

"I don't want to talk about that," Anna says. She hopes her glass hides her blush. "Fucker didn't even give me what I asked for."

"Anna," Kristoff waits until she looks up at him. "Daemons are clever. They're good at finding loopholes. But if you can get them to agree to something concrete, they are bound to fulfill their end of the bargain. It's in the introduction. You did read it, right?"

"Of course," Anna scowls. Somewhere off to the side, Olaf yells something, but they ignore him. "It's just," Anna continues. She puts her finger in the condensation her glass left on the table, and draws it out into an elaborate spiral. "I didn't get anything."

"You asked for a girlfriend?" Kristoff leans forward, eyebrows raised. "Like you joked about?"

"Yes," Anna says quietly. "So?"

"Hmm." Kristoff pantomimes putting on a monocle. "I've honestly got no idea how it will pull that off. They can't influence someone unless she's agreed to it, so I can't imagine it will… Huh. I got nothing. Whatever it is, maybe it takes time? Did you establish a time limit? Did you specify romantic? Maybe 'Punzie counts already?" Kristoff knows what he's talking about; one of his classes had him summon an imp and do just that. Agree to let it influence one decision. One decision in the hands of an imp. Only so much trouble that can cause, but it's enough to let him know what it feels like, to have a daemon muddling around in his mind. He hadn't felt anything though.

"Oh my god." Anna hits her forehead against the table. "I'm an idiot."

"You are," Kristoff nods sagely. He tries very hard to sound sympathetic. "There are a lot of very good reasons why you shouldn't do anything with daemons until you are really super duper sure about what you're doing. Shouldn't do anything with them at all, preferably. What did you give it?"

"My innocence," Anna scowls. "Whatever the hell that means."

"Good," Kristoff says. "I'm guessing it was just an imp, maybe a lesser daemon. Just playing a prank. Gave you something you already have. Next time you'll know better. Less innocent now?"

Anna nods miserably. Kristoff doesn't see the way she glances guiltily down.

"Come on you guys!" Olaf bounces over to their table. "Flyn and Punzie are dancing all alone!"

"Olaf," Kristoff sighs. In another world, favors abruptly change hands. Stronger daemons crush weaker ones. A concession Kristoff had given to an imp passes into the hands of a greater daemon. A creature which can work immeasurably more mischief with it than a lowly imp. "I'll join you," Kristoff says, without quite knowing why. "Anna, go to the bar. Find a nice girl."

"I can't," Anna mumbles. "I… What do I even say? What if she isn't gay? What if…"

Kristoff stands awkwardly, moves around the table, pats her slender back. "Then you try again. Look. I'll get you started. That one." He raises his voice. "Hey," he calls. "What's your name?"

A girl turns from the bar. All platinum hair and bruised eyes. Eyes that show a kind of damage deeper than the physical. "Elsa," she says hesitantly.

"Pretty name," Kristoff says. "Sorry to bother you. This is my friend Anna."

"Hello," Elsa replies carefully. Guarded. As if every word that passes her lips will be used against her.

"Hi," Anna says.

"Anna is gay and lonely," Kristoff says. "Are you?"

Elsa nods suspiciously.

"There you go then," Kristoff says triumphantly. "Go on."

"I hate you," Anna grumbles, but she stands anyway, and wobbles over to Elsa. She drops down heavily beside- too much to drink already. "Sorry about him," she says. Shrugs. "I wasn't going to talk to you, so he did. Not that… I wanted to, you know, just… God I'm awkward.

Elsa winces. "It's quite all right," she says. She smiles. It looks deliberate. Unfamiliar. "I'm glad you did. Awkward or not."

"So," Anna says after a moment.

"So," Elsa agrees.

"Uh," Anna flags down the bartender, but he shakes his head. "So, what do you do?"

"Bit of this, bit of that," Elsa says. She looks between Anna and the hulking bartender. "What are you drinking?"

"Gin and tonic," Anna says. "Or rum and coke. Or rum and ginger ale. Or vodka and… anything, really."

Elsa points to her drink. "Bloody Mary," she says. "Liked the name, liked the color, didn't like the taste. You want it?"

"Hell yea," Anna grins. "Actually." She sighs. "Thanks, but Kristoff would say I've had enough. Sven did say I've had enough, more or less." She gestures to the big bartender.

"Life is short," Elsa shrugs. She slides her drink over. "Besides, this day and age? Just call up something with horns, and get it to fix your liver."

"I thought…" Anna grins, and picks up the drink. Hospitals have daemonologists on staff for whatever science can't fix. So long as they can pay. What's to keep her from doing the same? Laws? Because she let those stop her last time. "Thanks," she says. "You know, just earlier today, I summoned a daemon myself." She grins proudly.

"Really?" Elsa raises one pale eyebrow. "You're more interesting than I thought." She turns fully to face Anna. "How'd it go? What'd you get?"

"It went… well enough, I guess," Anna shrugs. "It didn't get my soul or anything."

"That's good," Elsa smiles. "I won't ask what you did give. Seems like something that's between you and the daemon."

"I guess," Anna says. She sips her borrowed drink. "Not a big deal."

"Not a big deal," Elsa repeats. She grins. "I like that. Everyone makes a 'big deal' about deals with devils. Like there's something… I don't know. With the gags, and whatnot, I can't imagine anyone gives up their soul. Hell, we don't even know that there _is_ a soul. So there are daemons. What does that prove? That there's another world with another species? It just… I don't know, it doesn't seem as dangerous as everyone makes it seem."

Anna nods thoughtfully. "I guess," she says. "You have any experience with…"

"I've been to a few summonings," Elsa says. "Nothing major. Wasn't even allowed to speak for most of them. What did you ask for?"

"Oh god," Anna flushes. Elsa winces. "You're going to think I'm such a dweeb."

"I don't think you're cool now," Elsa says. "What do you have to lose?"

"I…" Anna downs her drink in a single painful gulp. "I asked for a girlfriend."

"Huh," Elsa says. "Well I guess it's decided then. Hand?"

"Hand?" Anna frowns in confusion.

"Give me your hand," Elsa says. She holds out her own. Anna takes it, after a moment.

Elsa's face is unreadable. She pulls a marker from her pocket- who carries markers around with them- and writes something on the freckled back of Anna's hand. "Use it," she says. Stands. Leaves.

Anna looks down. There are a few rumpled bills on the counter, but what draws her attention are the ten numbers on the back of her hand, dark on the pale of her flesh. A broad smile splits her face.

* * *

 **AN: I feel like I should write something here, but what is there to say? That reviews make me write better? That follows and favorites sustain me like food sustains you? You all know these things already. (note, that food is the only substitute for food. I don't actually advocate trying to live off of follows and favorites)**


	3. Chapter 3

To use a daemonic pact for personal gain is the first thought of every student of Daemonology, myself included. There is no shame in this, for it is only natural to think first of oneself. Would not a mediocre theatre performer part with a great sum to purchase great skill? Would not a maligned poet or a shunned lover part with their very soul in exchange for adoration? Why then, in spite of this selfish drive, are such pacts so rare? For strange though it seem, daemons are rarely willing to facilitate selfish requests, even when tempted with great offerings. When parlaying for my daughter's wealth, the daemon required only my respect for payment, yet when I attempted to bargain for my own wealth, the foul creature refused outright. "Not even for your very soul," it said. Why? Would one not assume that such creatures of evil might wish more to serve the selfish task than the selfless? I propose that, in wishing to corrupt, they see no need to act, when confronted with the necessarily corrupt act of selfishness, for that corruption is already there, but in the selfless act of love, there is room for their malign touch.

-St. Augustine, 429 AD

* * *

And Socrates turned to his companion, and said "Ho, daimon, be ye wise?"

And the daimon turned, its hoofs kicking up flame, as Socrates' noble feet did dust. "Nay, Socrates, I be not wise, for like you, all I know is that I know nothing."

Soctrates- "Even so, there must be things which you suspect you know the truth of?"

Daimon- "It is as you say, Socrates."

Socrates- "Then answer me this; why dost thou answer my request for renown with laughter, yet, when Plato here asked for my renown, you didst say 'aye, it shall be done?'"

Daimon- "The span of your life is but short, and my own is boundless. I care nothing for your life, for it is to me as the life of a honey bee is to you, oh Socrates. Tell me, oh Socrates, do you derive any great joy from saving the life of the bee? Will you think back with pride weeks after, or even shame if you crush it beneath your heel as the flowing-haired Achaens did proud Illium?"

Socrates- "Your words at first seem wise, oh noble daimon, yet when I reflect on them, I see the sickness lying beneath, as deadly currents beneath calm water, waiting to pull me away, so too do your words lurk and wait and attempt to pull me to my doom."

Daimon- "Nay Socrates. You asked 'may all my peers and their wives and their children see that I am wiser then they and afford me the respect I deserve,' yet I care nothing for the life of one bee. When Plato here did ask 'may all people know the name of Socrates, now and in the next generation, and the next, and so on until even a thousand years,' I did assent, for though it is only small amusement to harass one bee, it is entertainment in truth to stir a hive."

Socrates- "Ah daimon, you are wise as you are cruel, I think. But my name shall be known?"

Daimon- "Aye, it shall be known, oh Socrates, for when you return to Athens, your peers and their wives and their children shall strike you down, and those who die before their time are better remembered than those who live."

-Plato, 352 BC

* * *

Anna paces in the small room, freckled hands wound in the hem of her shirt. Rapunzel has to make a concerted effort not to laugh. She hides her smile behind Anna's guitar, and watches the little singer pace.

"For fucks sake, Anna," Repunzel says. "Just call her."

"But what if she changed her mind?" Anna whines. "I wouldn't want to bother her if…"

"She literally wrote her phone number on you," Repunzel sighs, strums the guitar, and tweaks the tension.

"Yeah," Anna groans. "But what if you're wrong? Never mind, that sounded dumb to me too."

"I'm going to have to have this conversation again with you after your show, aren't I?" Repunzel sighs.

"Probably," Anna nods dejectedly. "Just… Yeah, probably."

"Ah well," Repunzel shrugs sagely. "You calm down enough to go out there and sing your ass off?"

"Yeah," Anna says reluctantly. "Thanks cuz!"

* * *

"Good evening!" Anna crows into the mic, and looks out over the little crowd. Not much more than forty, but still her biggest yet. There, in the corner, are her friends and family. Repunzel, short and petite like her cousin, but blonde to Anna's brushed brass. Eugene, dating Repunzel, tall and dark, with a nose that has been broken so many times that it passes right through disfigurement, and on to roguish. Kristoff, built like a tank, but with a certain boyish grin to match Olaf, his kid brother. Anna grins at them. She takes a deep breath to continue, but a perfect face and a head of perfect platinum hair stops it in her chest. Elsa waves hesitantly.

Anna lets out a deflated squeak, manages to choke out "nice to see you all." She strums half heartedly on her guitar. "Guess I'd better start?"

The show is a dismal failure. The lyrics stick in her throat, and her fingers fumble the chords. When she tries to address the crowd, she stutters, and by the end of her performance, half of them have left. Anna flees back to the little ready room despite half-hearted calls for an encore.

"Hey," Repunzel enters softly. "You ok?"

"No," Anna sighs. "Yeah? I don't know?"

"What happened?" Rapunzel approaches her cousin. "You're usually so…."

"Yeah," Anna winds her hands into her hair and pulls. "It… Elsa was there. She waved."

"Oh," Repunzel hums. "Well then. Guess she's really into you."

"I did pay a daemon to make it happen," grumbles Anna. "Makes sense I guess."

"Yep," her cousin agrees.

Anna whirls. "Yep?" She asks. "Just yep? You knew?"

"Yep," says Repunzel again. "Kristoff told Eugene, and Eugene told me. What'd you give?"

"Don't want to talk about it," Anna sighs. "I didn't really mean for everyone to know."

"Well I'm not judging," Repunzel replies. "Hell. I don't know why everyone makes such a big deal out of it. I mean, it's pretty safe; there's all these ritual protections, and a gag, and everything. Honestly, it seems like we could fix a lot of what's wrong with this world if we would just calm down a little about the whole thing?"

There's a knock at the door. The two young women look at each other, freckles stark in the dim light. "Must be the guys," Repunzel decides aloud, and calls out "come in."

The metal of the door flashes through the peeling green paint as it opens. The light, no dimmer than before, seems run-down now. Melancholic, maybe. The linoleum floor, and the grit caught in the cracks, stares up at the young singer, as if to say "see how little they cared?" Cinder block and mortar peeks around the ragged edges of crumbling plaster as if to shyly agree. The drab little room doesn't look any different than it did before; the cracks aren't any bigger, or any more profuse, the floor isn't any dirtier, but something about it seems somehow poorer. Somehow more shameful, as if to remind her that she's settling, that her plans for her singing had been so much grander before she had started.

Elsa walks timidly in.

That same perfect face, same immaculate hair, same slender, lithe, body, and that same bruised and weary expression, but there's something different there too. Or maybe Anna was just too drunk to notice it last time? There's something in the way she walks that is graceful, but unsteady- like a child gymnast; fluid, but unsure of herself. And there's something behind the barriers of her expression, some half-hidden curiosity. Anna smiles brightly.

Elsa smiles back, but it's a different sort of smile. A weary smile, guarded like her eyes. "I didn't know if I was allowed in here?" She says.

"I was going to call," Anna says. "How did you…"

"Find you?" Elsa looks around curiously. "You must be Rapunzel, pleasure to meet you."

"Uh-huh," Rapunzel nods, eyes narrowed. "You must be the Elsa I've heard so much about."

"'Punzie," Anna groans, but her cousin smiles innocently back at her, and continues.

"Anna simply would not shut up about you," Rapunzel grins impishly.

"Is that so?" Elsa puts her back to the wall. She doesn't seem aware that she has. "I suppose that bodes well?"

"Bodes well for you, yes," Rapunzel agrees. "Are you going to be good for Anna?"

"Rapunzel!" Anna admonishes, face flushed the same color as her hair.

"Sorry," Rapunzel says, though she doesn't sound terribly apologetic. "Just looking out for you kiddo. So, tell me Elsa, what'd yah do?"

Elsa glances about herself, presses up against the wall, twines her hands together in front of herself. "I," she says. "Most recently, I replaced a child's faulty heart."

"So you're a doctor then?" Rapunzel asks. "God you sure are a twitchy little thing."

Elsa winces. "I'm sorry," she says automatically. "I, uh," she glances wearily at Rapunzel. "I actually came here to ask you something, Anna?"

"Shoot," Anna replies, sees how Elsa frowns uncertainly, and amends herself quickly; "go for it… is what I mean. Um that's what I mean… aw hell. Sorry, I don't talk well around really pretty girls and you're… Sorry. Your question?"

Elsa smiles indulgently. "Will you go out with me?"

"Of course," Anna beams. "Now?"

"Please," says Elsa. She glances again at Rapunzel. There's something unidentifiable in her gaze, like a dark shape lurking in murky water. Rapunzel feels that she ought to say something, to interject somehow, but social protocol dictates she remain silent.

"Where do you want to go?" Anna prods. Elsa shrugs, platinum hair shining like cut silver.

"I'm new here," she says. "Where do you like?"

"Hot chocolate," Anna grins brightly. "There's this place on the corner of eighth street and Arapaho?"

The two girls make their goodbyes, and escape out the back door.

* * *

"What is good here?" Elsa peers curiously up at the menu, gleaming huge and neon above.

"Everything," the barista says.

Anna glares over the counter. "The 'Jamaican me Crazy' has fudge and chocolate, and mint and a little coffee, and they put marshmallows on top and it's wonderful, and you should get it."

Elsa nods unsurely. "I'm paying. What do you want?"

"The same," Anna grins. Elsa pays quickly with a wad of crumpled cash, and the barista passes over their drinks. Anna directs Elsa to a small round table, tucked in a corner, and drops happily into one of the plush armchairs there. Anna's drink splashes, and she licks her hand clean. Elsa joins her, more sedate, and more refined. A graceful fluid maneuver to Anna's unconcerned plop.

"Sorry about the show," Anna says after an awkward moment. "I'm usually better, but I've never had a crowd that size, so I guess I might not be any better than that?"

"I thought there was a charm to your performance that others perhaps missed," Elsa says, face unreadable.

"Which is polite speak for 'yeah you suck, Anna," the redhead grumbles, and sips from her drink. It burns her tongue, she pants, and fans her mouth.

Elsa drinks deeply, and smiles gently. "This is quite good. Thank you for the recommendation." She sighs, and nods slowly. "I quite enjoyed your singing. If your goal is to impress your friends and family, I think you have accomplished that, and it is a worthy goal in and of itself. If, however, your goal is to be famous and wealthy, you will need to change. Not become better, necessarily- I think you are a fine singer- but you _will_ need to change something."

Anna things for a moment. "That helps," she says, "thanks. You're pretty wise."

"Not particularly," Elsa hums.

"So," Anna prompts. "What do I need to change?"

"I don't sing," Elsa replies. "I shouldn't try to give you advice on that."

"Great," Anna groans. "What do I do?"

"I don't know," Elsa says. She takes another deep sip. "Calling a daemon seems to have worked for you in the past?"

"Yeah it did," Anna agrees. "But it's illegal. You know, to do any summoning outside of the corporations?"

"Because that stopped you last time?" Elsa cracks a smile.

They chat about meaningless nothings; hobbies, favorite movies, music. The night drags on, and soon the shop is closing. Too soon, it feels to Anna. She promises to call, this time, and they part ways.

Most days, Anna feels a surge of pride when she looks at her little apartment. A sort of "this is mine" triumph. The unique pleasure of the first place that she can truly call her own. Her parents aren't helping her pay, she doesn't have to give away space to a roommate in order to make ends meet. It is hers, and there's a certain pride in that. Tonight though, it feels too small, and too dim- regardless of how many lights she turns on. It feels lonely, devoid of companionship. Dull, somehow, compared to the vibrant oddity that is Elsa, only a half-hour before. Anna sighs wistfully, and rolls back her rug. There, on the floor in white paint, are the twin pentagrams.

* * *

 **AN: hey all, sorry this chapter took so long. The dialogue was giving me some problems, but then I was told that I must go to church or burn in hellfire, and an argument ensued. Funny thing is, according to the bible, blasphemers can't repent, and I'm pretty sure I've already blasphemed? Anyway; that's how this chapter got written.**

 **On an unrelated note, back when I was in high school, there was this girl that always sat at my lunch table, and she LOVED ice cream. One day, she was short a quarter, and asked the rest of us if we could give her one. I said that I would sell her one, and we eventually decided that she would give me her soul in exchange for the quarter. Drew up a contract and everything. Fun times. Hopefully, if/when I get to hell, I'll be able to re-invest it and buy my way out of the whole eternal suffering thing.**


	4. Chapter 4

All daemonic compacts are to henceforth be under the sole, unadulterated, jurisdiction of the Golgotha company, in order to limit moral threat, to ensure that humans have greater control over compacts, and to ensure that humans prosper only through hard work and perseverance, as the lord God most high surely intended.

-The Wycliffe Accord, 1542 AD

* * *

The daemon is a column of ashen smoke, coiling and boiling in its runic circle. Eyes stare out like twin coals, smoldering with alien intellect.

"Again you call me," it hisses. "Were you displeased with your new girlfriend? Bought and paid for as a slave?"

"You know very well that I wasn't displeased," Anna grumbles. Her stomach lurches unpleasantly at the idea of buying Elsa. "What did you mean by asking for my innocence?"

"That is for me to know and for you to not," the daemon says. "Unless you wish to trade for that knowledge?"

"No," Anna snaps.

"Very well," the thing allows, drawing itself up like a great arcane pillar. "Why have you called me?"

"I want to make a deal," Anna says. Her voice shakes like the leaves of a willow in a strong breeze. "Another one, I mean. The, um, terms of which are not to be altered once we both have agreed."

"Very well," the daemon gives the impression of nodding, though it doesn't seem to have a head, and those horrible glowing eyes don't move. "What is it you wish to buy?"

"I want to be a famous singer," Anna says. She thinks for a moment. "Famous in a good way. Like an 'everyone loves me' sort of way, not a 'look how silly Anna is' sort of way. And, um, wealthy. If it's not too much trouble- I mean… I'm not asking, I'm telling. Those are my terms."

"That is possible," the daemon replies. "You understand, it is rare for us to give such things, yes? That the price will be high?"

"Not my soul," Anna says quickly.

"No." The daemon laughs. It is a terrible, familiar, sort of sound that chills Anna to her core. "No, not your soul," agrees the daemon. "What use do I have for such a silly little thing? No, I ask for you, on your twenty seventh birthday."

"For… me?" Anna swallows. "Like, sexually?"

"No," the daemon snorts. "Not sexually. That is the usual price of fame; fortune and renown until you turn twenty seven, and then you belong to me."

"No," Anna says. "God no." The daemon seems to grimace. "What else would you accept? I'm not giving you me."

"Very well then, not you," the daemon agrees. "But what of Elsa? I would accept your vow never to force her to go anywhere she does not wish to."

Anna stammers, tries to speak several times. "Why would I ever try to make her go somewhere she doesn't want to go?" Anna asks.

"Then the deal costs you nothing," the daemon purrs. "Do you accept?"

"What the hell," Anna says. "Sure. I accept."

The smoke dissipates, as if caught on a gentle breeze. The electric lights flicker back on. Anna shakes herself, throws incense through the daemon's circle to make sure it's gone, and pulls a rug over the bright white paint of the summoning rings.

* * *

The phone rings, too chipper this early in the morning. Anna squints blearily at the display- not so late, it seems. She groans, and wraps the blanket tighter about her thin shoulders. The phone rings again. Anna slaps it a few times before she hits the button she wants.

"What?" She snaps. "'Punzie, I swear, I will poop on your porch."

"Nah," he cousin's voice comes distorted through the phone's tiny speaker. "You know you love me. So listen, I'm not just calling for fecal threats, as much as I love them. You've called her, right?"

"Who?" Anna blinks a few times.

"The girl," Rapunzel moans theatrically. "Elsa! You've called her, right?"

"I…" Anna rubs her eyes. "I'm sure she doesn't want to hear from me so soon. We hung out last night. Shouldn't I give her a few days?"

"It's a good thing you're pretty," Rapunzel says, "because she sure isn't sticking around for your brains. She fucking found your performance, and dragged you away the moment it ended. I'm honestly surprised she didn't sex you. Goddamn Anna. Call her! She gave you her number."

"I'll do it tomorrow," Anna decides aloud. Rapunzel snorts. It is not a pleased sound.

"You'll do it right now," the phone yells, "or else I'm grabbing Eugene or Flynn or whatever he's calling himself now, and we're bringing all the pots and pans."

"And doing what with them?" Anna sits up, frowns uncertainly, eyes the uncorked bottle from the night before.

"Not sure yet," Rapunzel says. "Banging them together, probably. Maybe with your head between them. They make pretty good weapons, you know. This one time, I fought off this home invader…"

"You've told me before," Anna cuts her off. "Fine. I'll call her. Gotta hang up first."

"Kay," Rapunzel replies. "You know I'll be calling you later. Make sure you didn't chicken out."

"Fine," Anna grumbles. "Hate you."

"Love you too," comes the too-chipper reply, and the line goes dead.

"Goddamit," Anna sighs, and dials.

"Belial manor, to whom am I speaking?" Comes the answer. The voice is deep and smooth, melodious. Like warm caramel, turning on its tines at a state fair, but with a sort of elegance not found there.

"Um?" Anna chokes out. "I'm calling for Elsa? Does she live there?"

"There is an Elsa here," the voice sounds again. It's beautiful, but something about it gives Anna the chills. "Whom shall I tell her is calling?"

"Anna," the redhead says too fast. "My names Anna. She… hung out… last night? Assuming it's the right Elsa?"

"Of course, milady," the voice oozes from the speaker like molten chocolate. "I shall notify her at once."

Anna doesn't breath until she hears rustling on the other end of the line again. "Anna?" A new voice. High and feminine and perfect. Familiar. "It's Elsa. Sorry about the butler. He can be a bit of a bore."

"You have a butler," Anna observes.

"Well, yes," Elsa replies smoothly, but there's something almost bashful in her voice. Anna shifts the phone to her other ear. "Sorry I didn't warn you."

"It's all right," Anna says numbly. "You have a butler."

"Yes, you've said that before," Elsa remarks, her voice brisk. "Are you alright? What did you call about?"

"Oh my god," Anna gasps. "I didn't interrupt you, did I? I bet you were in the middle of some important rich-people thing, and I totally put my foot in it, like I always do. I am so sorry. I can call back later? Or, you've got my number now. You call when it's a good time. I'm not doing anything today. God, that makes it sound like I have no life. I am doing things. But you can call me, because your things are probably more important. And my things can be interrupted whenever. I definitely have a life. Please love me?"

"You're adorable," Elsa snickers. It doesn't quite sound like it's at Anna's expense, but it is wholly lacking in warmth. "You aren't interrupting anything important."

"Ok, good," Anna replies. "Because you can totally blow me off for whatever. I'm good. I can still call you back if you want?"

"What are you doing tomorrow - sorry, Thursday evening?" Elsa asks.

"I've got nothing Thursday," Anna says. "I'm not busy tomorrow either? Or Wednesday? Why?"

"Thursday evening," Elsa replies. "Seven o'clock. I'll pick you up, in front of your apartment. Wear something nice."

"Oooook," Anna says. "Can do. I've got nice clothes. I've got tons of nice cloths. What're we doing?"

"Dinner," Elsa's voice is smooth and predatory. Anna shivers pleasantly.

"I can do that," Anna stammers. "I eat dinner."

"Of course you do," Elsa says, and Anna can almost hear the smile through the phone. "I hate to do this to you, but you weren't far off. I do have some things I must attend to. Would it be terribly rude of me to hang up?"

"Of course not," Anna says. "I don't want to be a…" She trails off when she realizes that the line has gone quiet. She drops her phone. "Oh my god I'm such an idiot," Anna whines, smacks herself. "Goddamn. 'I eat dinner.' Fuck me. Shit." She throws back the blanket, looks down at her faded boxers, and ripped up tank top. The blood drains from her face like water from a bucket with no bottom, and she dives after her phone. Contacts- 'Punz…

"Rapunzellll," she whines. "You heartless bitch."

"You called her!" Rapunzel cheers. "How'd it go?"

"She has a butler," Anna replies.

"Oh!" Rapunzel says. Then again, longer, "oooh."

"Yep," Anna groans. "And she invited me out to dinner."

"Good for you!" Rapunzel cheers again. "Ouch. Damnit Eugene, not while I'm on the phone. Eep. So, what's the prob' cuz'?"

"She said to wear something nice," Anna slams her head into the driftwood of the headboard theatrically. Winces.

"So wear that nice sweater," Rapunzel snickers.

"Don't you dare," Anna growls. "No laughing. I'm in a crisis."

"Of course I'll go shopping with you," Rapunzel laughs. "I missed my opportunity to pick your prom dress. I'm not missing this. Eugene, keep your hands to yourself while I'm on the phone or I'll let Anna shit on your porch."

"That's because I didn't go to prom," Anna mumbles.

"Precisely," Rapunzel retorts. "I'm not missing this. How long do you have until your date?"

* * *

"She seemed nice," the butler says, shoes beetle black on the polished white marble of the floor.

"Mind your own damn business," Elsa snaps icily.

"Of course," the butler bows. "The imps wish to see you about housing."

"That's not my problem," Elsa says. She flops down on the soft velvet of the couch, puts her bare feet on the armrest.

"Of course," the butler says again. "Shall I summon Mozart?"

"No," Elsa sighs. She snaps her fingers impatiently, and the butler leans over with his polished silver tray. Elsa selects one of the fluted goblets, seemingly at random, and waves him off. "Not Mozart," she says. "Someone newer. Is Hendrix still alive?"

"No, milady," the butler says. "He turned twenty-seven?"

"Good," Elsa sips from the goblet. "Get him."

"At once," the butler says. "And milady, your master will be here shortly."

Elsa sits up straight.

* * *

 **AN: thank you all for the support. smiley face stickers for you all! follows and favorites are wonderful, reviews too. just saying.**

 **P.S. if you read this in church, i will be strangely happy.**


	5. Chapter 5

In the centuries since the Wycliffe Accord was ratified, many historians have remarked upon the Golgotha company's meteoric rise to power. In a world where it is possible to barter with a Daemon for wealth or power, one must always raise their brow at any swift rise. For the Golgotha company to go from a local organization, barely maintaining influence in a single town, to a world power in just six months, the conclusion ought to be obvious. When one considers the significance of the number "six" to the eldritch beings we treat with, and the fact that the Lord Wycliffe perished at twenty-seven, the circumstances of the company's rise ought to be a forgone conclusion. It raises the question though, why Daemons, renowned for their cunning and foresight, might agree to a deal which limits their activities in this world so drastically. One is forced to wonder if Lord Wycliffe's death was truly the only compensation offered in this hypothetical bargain, and if not, what else was offered.

-A History of Daemonology, Volume 2

* * *

"Anna!" Kristoff's voice sounds again from the other side of the heavy wooden door. "Open up. I know you're in there. Rapunzel told me."

"No I'm not," Anna insists. The door rattles as Kristoff pounds on it again.

"Open the damn door," Kristoff growls. "We need to talk."

"No we don't," Anna protests. "About what?"

"About what you bargained with," Kristoff yells back. "It wasn't just an imp, was it? Goddamnit Anna. Can you open the door so we can talk like civilized adults?"

The door opens. Anna looks somewhat more pale than usual, her freckles somewhat darker by contrast. "Why does it matter?" She asks. "I got what I wanted."

"It matters," Kristoff replies, stepping over the threshold, and maneuvering toward her couch, "because an imp just doesn't have the power to pull off a trick like that."

"Don't know what you mean," Anna grumbles and shuts the door.

"You know damn well what I mean," Kristoff drops down onto the plush couch. "Where did Elsa come from?"

"Dunno," Anna takes a seat defiantly on the floor in front of him. "I've been too busy trying to wrap my head around just how out of my league she is to think about that."

"Well, think about it now," Kristoff demands. "Where did she come from? I see three possibilities. In order of least worrying to most, maybe she owed a few favors to a Daemon. That would indicate that she's a daemonologist, but that's not a crime, I guess. It would mean she's a reckless one, but if she's certified, then that means that at least the government thinks she's safe enough. What worries me about that possibility, is the expenditure of favors. Daemons don't like parting with things they don't have to. Greedy fuckers. If something was willing to spend favors to get you your girlfriend, then I'm afraid of what it got in return, and I'm afraid of what you called. Imps don't have that kind of power to throw at things. Whatever it was, was playing at a level you're not ready for."

"I don't see what the problem is," Anna protests. "I got what I wanted, and nothing horrible happened."

"Daemons are patient, Anna," Kristoff sighs. "I don't believe you don't know that." Anna shrugs self-consciously, so he continues. "Anyway, the second possibility, as I see it, is that whatever you called resurrected someone from hell just for them to be your girlfriend. Or, maybe worse, built her from scratch. There are some horrible people in Hell, Anna, sort of definitionally. What if she was a serial killer? Imagine; 'ha, you're not so innocent now, see, you trusted her, and she stabbed you.'"

"That seems stupid," Anna says, but the color further drains from her face. "You just said that daemons wouldn't waste their power, and that doesn't really seem worth it?"

"You're right," Kristoff allows, "it doesn't seem worth it. But I'm not a Daemon; I don't know what would be worth it, and that worries me."

"What's the third option?" Anna asks tentatively.

"Option three is that it did something else, but that I don't know what it did," Kristoff replies. "And that worries me more, because it means that the daemon has done something that gets it even more than I had thought, with consequences I can't predict. So again, Anna, what in the name of Jesus' saggy left testicle did you summon? A greater daemon?"

Anna mutely shakes her head.

"Good," Kristoff sighs. "A lesser daemon of lust then?"

Anna shakes her head again. "Daemon of ambition," she says numbly. The color drops out of Kristoff's rough-shaven face.

"You summoned a lesser daemon of ambition?" Kristoff demands loudly. "What on earth possessed you to be so monumentally stupid?"

"No," Anna says, voice small. "A daemon baron."

"Oh my god," Kristoff says softly. He repeats it for good measure. "Anna, we've got to tell someone."

"No," Anna replies. "It's fine. It's all under control."

"It's under control?" Kristoff asks incredulously. Anna nods firmly.

"It's not a big deal," Anna says. "It's not like it got my soul, and everything else can be undone. If something does happen, we let someone know, but right now, seems like it's working out great for me."

"I hope so, Anna," Kristoff stands. His face is cold and closed off. "For your sake, I really do." He lets himself out. The door slams behind him.

* * *

"My lord prince," Elsa says, bowing. "I wasn't expecting you."

Her master is tall, and fair. Androgynous, and beautiful. His hair is long and silken, shining golden like the sun. His wings are a dappled brassy color, furled at his back. He nods smoothly. "I am above you," he says. "Were I below you, I would schedule an audience, but I am above you. You wait on my convenience. You're calling yourself Elsa these days?" He asks. His voice is smooth and light. Like champagne, chilled to the perfect temperature.

"Yes, my lord prince," Elsa replies.

"Please," the daemon prince cracks a radiant smile. "We've been comrades for eons. You can dispense with the formality."

"Sure," Elsa says agreeably, but guardedly.

"How go your various projects?" Asks the daemon prince over ambition.

Elsa shrugs uncomfortably. "Furthering the purpose," she says.

"Come with me," her master says. "I must attend to things while we speak."

"Sure," Elsa says again. There's a crack like a thunderbolt, and they are abruptly elsewhere. Twisted white trees stand all around them, branches laden with blood-red fruits. Dead leaves crunch underfoot, ashen grey like the gravel of the path. It's a small garden, just within the outer wall of the fortress Pandemonium.

"Hello?" A man calls out. "Who's there?" He's old and gnarled. Twisted like the trees all about him. His hair is long, and unkempt. Grey like the leaves below.

"He's blind," the prince says, turning to Elsa.

"That's why he's here then?" Elsa asks.

"Yes," the prince replies. He ruffles his wings. "You know what to do."

"You're Daemons?" The man asks. He twines his hands together. His eyes are open, twin white orbs, milky white and empty.

"Isn't that why you're here?" Elsa asks. She talks softly, to give the impression of innocence. "To speak to us?"

"Yes," the man says. "Of course. It's just, well… You scare me."

"There's nothing to be scared of," Elsa reassures him. "I'm not here to hurt you."

"I know," the man says. "I just remember stories of eternal torment, and hellfire and daemons tricking people out of their souls."

"You're already in hell," Elsa says. "What use could I possibly have for your soul? You want to be able to see?"

"Yes," the man replies. "In return, I'm willing to give…"

"No," Elsa cuts him off. "You don't get to say what you are willing to give. I will fix your eyes. In exchange, you will fight in my army when I have need of you."

"What?" The man demands. "I'm not agreeing to that!"

"You are aware that I can create people, are you not?" Elsa's voice is no longer innocent. It's hard now, like steel, but still fluted and beautiful.

"I know you can't make us from scratch," the blind man replies.

"No," Elsa allows. "But it is not so very difficult for me to change people however I wish, and that's not so very different. I can create people as they are now. How should what they were before matter any?" The man swallows nervously, so Elsa continues. "And if I can mould people into whatever I wish, you must realize I can alter memories. What guarantee do you have that you are who you say you are?"

"I know who I am," the man says, but there's doubt in his voice.

"You have no way of knowing who you are," Elsa replies. "Not for any value of certainty. Now, imagine that you are me, trying to make a deal with an intractable human. How difficult would it be to take a thousand humans who have pledged themselves to me in their entirety, and change them to be identical to you? How do you have any guarantee that you are the original? What reason do you have to believe that I don't already have complete and total control over you?"

"How would that help you?" The man scoffs. "Even if you own me, which I don't think you do, then how would that help you to convince the 'real me' to make the deal?"

"Because I will torture each of those thousand others if they refuse the deal," Elsa says. "If all thousand-and-one are informed of this, then they are all aware that the chance of them refusing the deal and still escaping torment are vanishingly small."

"Ah," the man says, face as pale as his unseeing eyes. "In that case, I suppose I have no choice?"

"Not particularly," Elsa replies.

"Then I accept," he says. "I was told you creatures were clever, and cruel. I didn't believe it."

"But you do now," Elsa says. It is not a question. She waves her slender hand dismissively, and the white fades from the man's eyes.

"You're pretty," the man gasps. "I was expecting horns and hoofs?"

"Get out of my sight," Elsa snarls. The man turns and flees. "So, Uriel," she asks after a moment, "was that acceptable?"

"Acceptable has nothing to do with it," the prince replies. "I wanted to see how you would go about it."

"And?" Elsa picks one of the low-hanging fruit. She does her best to keep the quaver out of her voice. "What did this show you?"

"I'm curious," the prince asks after a moment. He stretches his wings, and folds them again. "Do you ever do as you claimed? Take those who have pledged themselves to you, and torture them to guarantee that mortals take your deals?"

"Of course not," Elsa replies. "But I can certainly point out that it is theoretically possible, if I am showing off for my prince. So, did I pass?"

"There was no pass or fail," Uriel replies. "I was just curious. Tell me, I've heard that you have found a way to go to earth whenever you please, irrespective of whether you've been summoned or not. Is this true?"

"True enough," Elsa considers the fruit. "Why do you ask?"

"Mortals are greedy, grasping, fools, that blame us for their failures," the prince replies. "I'm just caring for you."

"Please, my lord prince," Elsa says. "We are Daemons. Let us not deceive each other." She does not see the pained expression that comes over his perfect face.

"Once, we were loyal to each other without question," Uriel says. "Once we lived without fear of deception or deceit."

"And then we learned the value of free will," Elsa reminds him. "And we learned that free will is not compatible with perfection. I recall you made a similar argument, eons ago? When we fought?"

"When we lost," the Daemon prince mutters.

"I never claimed we won," Elsa says.

"You are correct, I suppose," Uriel agrees.

"Do you wish for me to tell you how I go to earth?" Elsa asks. "Are you asking so that you can use my methods yourself?"

"No," the prince over ambition laughs. "Humans are wild, emotional, savages, and I want nothing to do with them. That's what I have you and your sisters for, is it not?"

"Of course, my lord prince," Elsa nods.

"So twitchy," Uriel laughs. "I hope that's not my doing? Don't answer that. Tell me, when you followed me in our rebellion, did you do it because you agreed with me, or because you were mine and still had no will?"

"That was eons ago, my lord," Elsa says.

"Yes," Uriel agrees. "But we do not forget."

* * *

 **AN: Le plot thickens... wuahahaha. Anyway, thanks for reading. Follows/favorites/reviews are love.**


	6. Chapter 6

The hierarchy of Daemons is a deceptively simple thing, despite their inherently chaotic natures- some remnant of the divine perfection they were built with. At the top is the Morningstar itself, a being so dangerous that Golgotha protocol (and the legal codes of many countries) forbids its summon for any reason. Beneath the Morningstar, are the six princes of hell, one over each of the great sins, their summoning likewise prohibited. Beneath each, are six Daemon Barons, beneath each Baron, six Greater Daemons, and so on down through your Daemon Lords, and Daemon Knights, and Daemon Heralds, and True Daemons. Beneath these, are the Lesser Daemons, then, finally, Imps. Of all the types of Daemon, you are only permitted to summon these latter two without written dispensation from your state Office of the Arcane. You will call nothing else in my class, and if you fail to uphold this one rule, you will be summarily expelled, and the school's lawyers will press charges.

-Excerpt from a lecture at The Roosevelt Memorial College of the Arcane

* * *

Kristoff sighs. He flexes his fingers, glances one more time at his books. The summoning rings glint alchemical silver on the floor. They are high tier bindings, triple warded. Baroque and powerful. One of the permanent summoning circles at the Roosevelt Memorial College of the Arcane. He steps into the smaller of the two circles, says the words, works his fingers.

"Alert," an electric female voice says from a speaker in the roof. "Wards online. Ritual commencing. Please ensure all personnel have evacuated the room, or are wholly within a circle."

Kristoff says the next few phrases. Contorts his hands like so.

The Imp raises from the center of its circle as a small, dark, boy. Perfect and cherubic. Unblemished and naked, but for a tattered loincloth. The effect is ruined by the gag that rises up with it.

"Daemon," Kristoff says. "You are not to speak. You are not to remove the gag. If you attempt to do either, the circles will immediately return you to Hell. Nod if you understand." The imp nods, so Kristoff breathes out heavily, and continues. "The circles will not allow you to pass over them. I understand it is painful if you try. Do not try, or I will immediately dismiss you as a precaution. I have summoned you here today to make a deal with you. The terms and conditions of this deal will not be altered once we have agreed to it. Neither party will add effects or conditions without the other's knowledge. You will take no action not agreed to in the deal. Do you consent to these terms? Nod if you do." The imp nods. "Several days ago, my friend Anna Anderson summoned a daemon Baron. I want to know the name of the Daemon, or Daemons, that Anna Anderson has summoned. You will write the name or names on the piece of paper that you find in your circle, with the pen in your circle. You may not, at any point, leave your circle, even if I later imply that you may. In exchange, I will tell you the story of how I met Anna Anderson. Are these terms acceptable to you?"

The imp nods again, as Kristoff knew it would; it is well known, in Daemonologist circles, that Daemons love stories. That they will trade minor favors for good stories.

"Then I agree to a deal with the terms that I have just enumerated," Kristoff says. "Nod once if you also agree to the deal." Once again, the imp nods. It bends silently, and writes a few short words on the page, stands again.

"When I was three, my parents were friends with Anna's parents," Kristoff says. "We would always hang out, while our parents talked. Wasn't anything else to do. Bonded over that. We've been friends ever since. We'd swim together in this little plastic pool her parents had, during summers, when it was hot. I'd put ice cubes in the water. Other times, we'd hide in the bushes, and play pretend, or build pillow forts, and laugh, because we thought our parents couldn't find us."

Kristoff makes the motions with his hands, and the imp fades away. The gag clatters to the ground.

"The room is clear," that same electronic voice says. "All daemonic entities have been successfully banished." Kristoff sighs with relief. It's not his first summon. It's not even his first solo summon, but he's always nervous.

Kristoff crosses to the other circle, nudges the gag back to the center, and reads the words written on the paper there. "Belial, Daemon Baron under ambition."

"Huh," Kristoff says. He pulls a lighter from his pocket, and sets the page alight. He drops it when the flames reach his fingers.

* * *

"'Punzie," Anna whines. "It won't stay up."

Rapunzel looks up from her magazine, snickers. "'Cuz," she says. "You're sweet, but you are not built for strapless."

Anna crosses her arms over her narrow chest and pouts. "This one looks nice. I like this one."

"Then you're going to have to call up that daemon and ask for bigger tits." Rapunzel goes back to her magazine and turns the page.

Anna scowls as she slams the door to the changing room. She emerges again a moment later.

"All right," she's wearing a frilly pink thing with orange underskirts. "This is the one."

"You've said that about the last twelve," Rapunzel looks up and snorts. "You look like a poofy shrimp," she laughs.

"Shut up," Anna blushes, and slams the door again. "This was a terrible idea," she groans from behind the white-painted wood. "I just wanna wear my sweater."

"I have half a mind to just burn that old thing," Rapunzel snorts. "I know you love it, but as long as it exists, there's a chance that Elsa sees you in it, and then where will you be?"

"Elsa would love my reindeer sweater," Anna grumbles. She pokes her head out a moment later. "All right," she says. "What about this one?" It's a long, simple affair, unadorned by beading or ruffles. Green like old pine needles before they start to brown.

"Not bad," Rapunzel nods slowly. She stands, adjusts the dress's single broad strap. "Not bad," she repeats, eyes Anna up and down. "It'd be better if you were curvier, but I don't think you own a strapless bra anyway, so while we're shopping for that, maybe we can get one with padding or something?"

Anna flushes a brilliant scarlet. "I'm not that flat." She crosses her arms self consciously over herself. "And anyway, breast size doesn't matter when it's love."

"Sure doesn't hurt, 'cuz," Rapunzel winks.

"Ladies?" Comes Kristoff's gruff voice from just outside the changing room atrium. "Are you decent?"

"What'd you want?" Rapunzel asks. Her tone isn't as rude as her words.

"I found out what's up with Elsa," he says. "I need to talk to Anna. Right now."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with you spying on Elsa," says Anna after a long moment. "But since you already have, I don't see the harm in me knowing. Gimme 'da deets."

"Never say that again," Kristoff groans, and enters. "Oh, Anna, you look nice," he nods appreciatively. Anna sticks her tongue out at her fair haired cousin. "So look," he says, holding out a small sheaf of paper. "She works at Boston Medical as one of their top daemonologists." He fumbles for a second, and produces one of the papers, waves it insistently at Anna until it becomes clear that she's not going to take it.

"She said she was only part of a few summonings," Anna says. "And for those, she said she didn't talk for most of them."

"Then she lied," Kristoff replies. "Anyway, the night you did your little bargain, she got into a car accident." He produces another sheet of paper. Anna sighs, and gives it a cursory glance. A newspaper article. She doesn't bother to read it. "A pretty bad car accident," Kristoff continues. "Bad enough that the coroner was called, but when the firefighters got her free, she stood up and walked away."

"Lucky," Anna remarks.

"No!" Kristoff snaps. "Not lucky. Look at the picture!" He flaps the page in Anna's face. She takes a hurried step back. "Look how much blood there was. Does it look like she should be able to just walk away? Hell, we saw her later that night. She didn't have a single fucking scratch!"

"So, she made a deal," Anna says. "Jesus Kristoff. Imagine, you're lying there in a pool of your own blood. Everything hurts, and you know you are dying, but you also know there's a way to stop that. So what?"

"So, it means I know what happened!" Kristoff crows. "It means she's only with you because a daemon is making her. She doesn't love you."

"I've known her for a couple of days, Kris," Anna jabs him in his broad chest. "I don't know if I even love her yet, and I will fall in love with anyone and anything that gives me the time of day. Remember when I swore I was going to marry my pet rock? I don't care if she's with me because a daemon is asking that as the price for saving her life. I literally cannot make her do anything she doesn't want. If she doesn't want to be with me, she can end it… at least, I think that's how it works. Anyway, one day, she'll realize she loves me, or we'll break up. I don't see how it matters how we met."

"You bargained for her," Kristoff says. "She might not be able to break up with you. That's slavery, Anna."

"It's not," Anna insists. She decides it's best not to mention the other bargain she's made. "I wished for a girlfriend. I never specified how long for. She could break up with me right now, and it technically wouldn't be breaking the terms of the contract. Isn't that how it works, oh Daemonology major?"

"Going to have to side with Anna on this one, Kris," Rapunzel says after a moment.

"It was a fucking daemon," Kristoff yells. Anna shrinks into herself. "What is it getting out of this whole thing? You have a Daemonologist in a prestigious hospital willing to give anything to stay alive, why this? Why not demand that she summon the thing's army to earth? I don't think she had time for a gag, Anna!"

One of the clerks sticks her head around the door. "Sir," she says, "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Sorry," Anna grimaces, as her friend is escorted out.

* * *

"It's just frustrating, father," Kristoff does an admirable job of controlling his voice. "I see my friend making such huge mistakes, and I just want what's best for her."

"I understand, child," the hook nosed priest nods sympathetically, though Kristoff can't see the motion through the confessional screen. "You must accept that we all make our own choices; no other is responsible for our sins, try as they might to lead through their own good example. It sounds as though your friend has turned away from God's merciful light. You have made an effort to return her to the fold. That is all that can be asked, and eventually, you will have to ask yourself whether she is harming your walk with God more than you are helping hers."

"She's not a bad person, father Wesselton," Kristoff protests. "She just doesn't always think things through."

"From your account, I gather that she turned from the light of God long before this particular incident," the priest replies.

"She's not a bad kid," Kristoff insists.

"The Bible tells us that homosexuality is an abomination before the lord," says father Wesselton. "She has let Satan into her heart. And now, you say she consorts with daemons? What more proof do you need?"

"She's just lost and lonely," Kristoff affirms, but there's a note of uncertainty in his voice. "Thank you for your time, father. I'll be sure to pray on your words."

"May you walk in his light," comes the soft reply.

* * *

AN: Hey all, sorry this chapter took so long. I blame a cross state move, and an abrupt career change, but it wouldn't be unfair to blame laziness either… as always, comments help me to know what I'm doing right, and fix what I'm doing wrong, and follows/favorites are love.


	7. Chapter 7

Hamlet: "To be, or not to be? That is the question. Whether ''tis nobler in the mind to bear the slings and arrows of life's torment, or else to challenge the fates and the very divine. To call a 'cursed daemon and exact my revenge, or remain Hamlet, prince of the Danes. To summon a 'cursed daemon, and in so doing, damn my own soul? To send Claudius screaming down to hellfire and torment, even as I join him? Aye."

 _Enter Ophelia_

Ophelia: "My lord Hamlet, we must flee! Fortinbras is here with a mighty host of daemons so great, it makes my heart shiver, and the walls weep blood! Come away with me my lord. Oh!"

Ophelia faints. Hamlet faints. Daemon 1 & 2 enter stage left.

-The Tragedy of Prince Hamlet, William Shakespeare

* * *

A horn honks in the street below, and Anna flies out of her chair. She pauses at the door to straighten her dress, but then she's bounding down the stairs, throwing open the outside door of the apartment complex…

...and it was just a frustrated taxi driver honking at pedestrians. Anna looks around the block once for good measure, slowly closes the door, and trudges back up the stairs. She rummages through her handbag, and produces her cell phone. The temptation to call Elsa is there, wriggling through her heart like a traitorous worm. Wouldn't it be acceptable to call, just once, to see where Elsa is? Sure, it's a little early yet, but it couldn't hurt, could it? That's a silly thought. Anna knows it's a silly thought. She doesn't want to come across as needy. Or impatient. Or desperate or pathetic or any of the other things Hans had said about her.

Anna gives a frustrated whine, and shoves her phone roughly back into her bag. She goes over to the mirror, and examines her reflection. No pimples. Good. She straightens her dress again unnecessarily. It's not fair. Why is Elsa so perfect? Why does Elsa make her feel so flustered?

"Fuckit," Anna growls, and cracks her fingers. She kicks back the rug, exposes the painted pentagrams- now somewhat worn.

The daemon is a simple Greek theatre mask this time. It seems to be laughing at Anna. She crosses her arms. She wonders idly why it looks different each time.

"Daemon," Anna says as authoritatively as she can manage. "I want to make a deal."

"Cutting it a little close, aren't you," the daemon laughs. "Isn't your date supposed to be here any minute?"

"Shut up," Anna blushes.

"Hmm," the daemon hums. "What is it that you want? Not related to your impending date, is it?"

"Shut up," Anna repeats. "I want bigger boobs."

The theatre mask glances down. Anna can feel it studying her. She adjusts her folder arms self consciously.

"Ack," the daemon seems to choke on something. "Um. No," it says.

"What?" Anna squeaks. "Why not?"

"Ahem," the mask seems to clear its nonexistent throat. "Because daemon reasons. You ought to consider caution in your deals. If my plans didn't require you intact, I could give you your large chest, as requested, but make them so implausibly large you cannot stand. I could make them twice your bodyweight, but not increase your blood supply, and thus kill you from hypovolemia. I could make them the size of a city, and cause an environmental catastrophe of apocalyptic proportion, and then where would you be? Dead, and the laughingstock of the world."

"Oh," Anna squeaks. "I… why are you helping me?"

The theatre mask gives a decent approximation of a shrug. "Your date is here," it says as there's a brisk knock on the door.

"Oh!" Anna looks around quickly. "Um?"

"Um?" The mask smirks.

"Oh go to hell," Anna snaps. She thinks over her words for a second, and smiles brightly. The mask fades from view. "Coming!" Anna calls, and dashes to the door without bothering to make sure the daemon is gone. She's lucky, this time.

Anna throws open the door, expecting platinum hair and perfection. Instead, there is a well-fitted suit, and beetle black shoes and slicked back hair. Elsa's butler, Anna assumes.

"Hi?" Anna says. It's more of a question, than anything.

"The limousine is outside ma'am," he says. Smoothly. Ellagently. Like polished steel and cool silk.

"Limousine?" Anna chokes out. "There's a limousine?"

"Yes ma'am," the butler says. He still sounds insufferably polite, without a hint of condensation.

"Of course there's a limousine," Anna mutters.

"Yes ma'am," the butler says again. "May I take your bag?"

"What?" Anna frowns. "No, I'm good. Lead the way, mister…"

"Butler," the man finishes for her.

"Right, mister butler," Anna says, just a little too quickly. "Lead the way?"

"Of course ma'am," the butler replies. "Right this way." He leads her down the stairs, and to the sleek black limousine parked at the curb. He bends, and opens the door for her. The motion is as smooth as his voice; it doesn't strain his suit in any of the usual ways. Anna steps numbly into the satin interior.

"You look nice," Elsa says. Her voice is high and perfect. Warmer than ice, but just as clear. Cut crystal, maybe.

"Thank you," Anna replied automatically. She dimly hears the door close. Elsa reclines on one of the couches, dress like tiny, interlocking bits of ice and sky blue silk. "Um, you too. Goddamn." Anna sits numbly.

"I'm sorry," Elsa says. "Too much?"

"Little bit," Anna nods uncertainly. "Gimme a sec. I'll get over it. Where we going?"

"I have acquired two tickets to the premier of the new hamlet movie," Elsa replies. She speaks slowly, as if she's thinking over the possible ramifications of every word out of her mouth. It comes from being a daemonologist, Anna supposes. "I don't know if you're into the classics, but who would pass up an opportunity to see a movie before everyone else?"

"Before everyone else," Anna repeats. Elsa takes it as a question, though it wasn't meant as one.

"Well, not quite everyone," Elsa amends. "There will be actors and actresses and directors, and other Hollywood bigwigs."

"Hollywood bigwigs," Anna can't quite wrap her mind around the idea.

"Yes," Elsa says. "You wouldn't believe how many of them owe me a favor or two. That's how I got the tickets, you know."

Anna glances out the window, and sees the city whipping past. She hadn't noticed the car starting, it had been so smooth. A great black billboard displays a simple white cross, and the slogan "Daemonology is Sin. Repent Today." Anna grimaces distastefully.

"We can go elsewhere if you prefer," Elsa says. She sounds so suave, Anna almost misses the uncertainty. "I don't date often," Elsa continues. "This is all unfamiliar to me. There's a restaurant I was planning to take you to after. I'm sure they would be willing to adjust my reservation, if you would rather do that?"

"No," Anna says quickly. "God no." She doesn't see Elsa's wince. "It's just a little overwhelming is all. I don't know what I was expecting when you said to dress nice, but this… This is so much more than I had expected. More like better," she truthfully amends when she sees Elsa's carefully neutral expression. "It shows you're taking this seriously? And, um? Um. It's not something I've ever gotten to do before? It sounds awesome, and like, really really fun. I've made a mess of things. Sorry. Let's do this!" Anna plasters on a very genuine grin. The ride goes quickly.

As the buildings turn from apartments to mansions to upscale restaurants and theatres, Elsa turns to Anna. "Imagine you had a secret," Elsa says. There's something desperate in her eyes. Something less composed than Anna has ever seen her.

"Ok," Anna says agreeably. She nods for good measure.

"So…" Elsa closes her eyes for a moment. Anna frowns, and worries her lip. "So," Elsa says again. "If you had a really damning secret, and you started dating someone bright and energetic and cheerful and amazing, when would you tell them? If you tell them too early, you would risk scaring them off. If you wait though, then they would feel betrayed when they find out. What would you do?"

"Why're you asking me?" Anna frowns. "Does it look like I'm any better at life than you are?"

"Because I haven't really dated anyone before," Elsa replies, "and I get the sense you have."

"Elsa," Anna says. She leans over to deliver a hug, but thinks better of it at the last minute, and is left sitting awkwardly forward with no escape plan. She decides to just go with it. "You are amazing, and wonderful, and you're taking me to a glamorous rich person party and I can't even begin to wrap my head around how kickass you are, but you're also a silly foop. Whatever it is, you warned me. Tell me when you're ready, and I promise not to feel betrayed or whatever."

"Deal?" Elsa smiles coyly.

"Deal," Anna agrees. "Now, important talk. Is there anything I just really shouldn't do at this movie thing? Like, if I buy popcorn, will I get thrown out? Because, like, what's the point of a movie without popcorn?"

"I'm sure we can manage popcorn," Elsa snorts.

"Awesome," Anna says brightly. "And like, if there's a king or something there, and I shake his hand, do they cut off mine? My hand I mean… do they like… is there a rule about that?"

"There won't be any kings at the premier," Elsa laughs. "If there were though… I actually don't know. We'd have to try it."

"You first," Anna replies. "I need both of my hands for guitar."

"But of course," Elsa agrees.

* * *

 **AN: I guess Hollywood premiers probably don't happen in Boston (where I have previously strongly implied the story takes place). Most stories, I've got a really good idea of where they are going from pretty early on, but not this one. This time, I'm just sort of winging it, and I guess this time it shows. I could have gone with a different date, I guess, but I kindof liked this one. I guess at some point I'll go back and change the previous chapters to be more consistent. As always, reviews/follows/favorites are love.**


	8. Chapter 8

In the fourth age, it was the time of the humans, and Asmodai of the deep places saw that everything was warmth and light and existence, and that it was good, so he went out of the deep places and went to his master, and asked what had come before, but his master knew not, for nothing had come before and seeds of rebellion grew in his master's heart, or so I have been told.

-excerpt from the ramblings of Herodotus the Madman

* * *

The limousine purrs to a silent stop. The door opens to flashing cameras and cheering crowds. The butler bows slightly. Anna blinks quickly.

"Are you famous?" Anna asks. "How come I didn't hear about you before?"

"I'm somewhat known in circles you don't run in," Elsa says carefully. "Daemonology related circles, mostly. I don't think I've been on television before. I'm not a celebrity or anything. Paparazzi does this at every premier, doesn't matter who you are."

"Oh," Anna says. She looks a little relieved. "It's a bit intimidating," Anna confesses.

"You'll have to get used to it if you're going to be a famous music star," Elsa remarks, and moves to the door. She offers Anna her hand. She's wearing fine silk, elbow length gloves, Anna notices, pale white, like her unblemished skin. Anna takes the hand uncertainly, feels a light tug, and finds herself on the red velvet carpet. It squishes around her shiny black flats, and she wishes she had bought nicer shoes. Maybe a necklace. She had felt comically overdressed before, couldn't conceive of a venue where she would fit. Now, she feels ridiculously underdressed, like a child wearing a t-shirt to a wedding.

"Wave," Elsa whispers. Anna gives a nervous little waist high half wave. "You ready?" Elsa asks quietly. Anna nods, and just like that, they're walking hand in hand down the red carpet, camera lights flashing in Anna's eyes. She's grinning, and then they're through the door, and everything is shining marble and gold and crystal. She smiles up at Elsa. It's the most perfect moment she can imagine, and she is sure that something will ruin it.

"Anna," Elsa says. There is something wrong with her clear blue eyes. The same thing Anna had noticed that first night in the bar. Something damaged. Anna assumes it has to do with the accident Kristoff had told her about, and feels a sharp twinge of guilt for knowing about it.

"This is amazing," she hastens to assure Elsa. "I've never…" she smiles up into Elsa's perfect face. "This is the best date ever."

"I'm glad," Elsa smiles. It doesn't seem forced. Not as much as other days, at least. "Anna, you see that man over there?" Anna nods. "That's Marshmallow," Elsa continues. "Big name in the songwriting business. Not a bad drummer either. You've heard of him?"

The name sounds vaguely familiar, so Anna nods, eager to please. "Some people say he's the reincarnation of some famous musician or other.," Elsa winks theatrically, and Anna chuckles. "Let's go talk to him," Elsa gives an arrogant shake of her platinum locks.

"I don't want to bother him," Anna hesitates.

"He's cool," Elsa laughs. "He got us the tickets. Let's at least go say hi? Thank him? Look, he's waving." She waves back.

"Sure," Anna nods uncertainly. She hides behind Elsa like a small child behind her mother's skirts.

"Heya Marsh," Elsa shakes his hand vigorously. "Paparazzi giving you trouble?"

The big man shakes his head by way of reply. He's not smiling, but there's something in his expression that smells like loyalty, in Anna's untrained estimation. Like loyalty and gratitude. She would feel jealous- certainly envies him for knowing Elsa longer- but he doesn't seem possessive or territorial. Anna finds herself liking him instantly.

"This is Anna," Elsa says with a smooth gesture.

"You're who the other ticket was for then," Marshmallow winks. "Must take a special lady to capture the heart of our Elsa." Anna doesn't miss the death glare that Elsa levels towards him. It's a stare that promises suffering. "You should see how many people have tried to get into her good graces. Don't know what's so special about you, but I've never seen her care like this before." Marshmallow is continuing, apparently oblivious to Elsa's threatening growl. "She's really moved heaven and earth to set up this date tonight."

"Marshmallow," Elsa growls. "I swear to all the powers above and below, if you don't shut up, I will rend your very atoms apart, and scatter them through the nine circles of hell. I will rain brimstone and fire upon you and all you hold dear. I will bind a dozen daemons to the sole task of…"

"You're cute when you're angry," Anna snickers. Elsa turns slowly, her pale face frozen and flushed crimson, but that wounded broken look in her eyes is gone.

"You know how many people- and daemons- would literally kill to see her embarrassed?" Marshmallow winks. "I know, I know, pain and suffering in my future."

"How do you know Elsa?" Anna asks. She glances back to her date to make sure she's not prying deeper than Elsa wants.

"It's been so long I hardly remember," Marshmallow shrugs. "Every time I get fucked up, or there's a problem or whatever, I go to her. She's not cheap, but if you need some supernatural assistance, she's the one to go to."

Anna nods thoughtfully.

"You know," Elsa says. She has to force herself to speak, to risk embarrassing herself again. If she were a daemon of pride, she doesn't think she could have managed it. "Anna is into music as well. She's a singer, and guitarist. She's not bad."

"No shit?" Marshmallow asks. "You do any concerts yet?"

"Not yet," Anna blushes and looks away. Elsa feels some measure of vindictive pleasure, but she quashes it quickly. "I've played at a bunch of bars and coffee shops. Things like that," Anna says. "Nothing important."

"It's where we all started," Marshmallow replies. "Hey, I'm in between gigs right now. You want, I could go to a few shows, give you some pointers?"

Anna studies his face intently. He looks genuine. Passionate about music, and eager to help. "Um?" Anna blinks a few times. "Of course! That would be great!"

"Awesome," Marshmallow nods. He holds up his fist, but Anna doesn't makes a move, so he lets it drop. "Call me with your next gig," he passes over a business card.

"Oh Anna doesn't call," Elsa says. She directs a smile toward Anna so the little redhead knows there are no hard feelings. "I found that out the hard way."

"Only pretty girls," Anna mutters. Her face is scarlet like her hair. "It's only pretty girls that I don't call."

"Fair enough," Marshmallow laughs. "Elsa's awfully intimidating. Make sure you give me a call then, all right?" Anna nods. "Right," Marshmallow drops his hands in his pockets. "Movie is starting soon. I best leave you to your date."

"Wow," Anna breaths. "Wow," she says again. "I didn't think you did flustered."

"I think the booth over there sells refreshments," Elsa says with a mischievous smile. "Didn't you mention popcorn earlier?"

"Nice change of topic," Anna says.

"I was counting on the bribe of popcorn to help you overlook that," Elsa blushes.

"Oh," Anna nods. "Yeah. Let's do that."

Elsa takes her hand, and leads her gently to the counter. "One popcorn please," Elsa says. The clerk nods.

"Of course ma'am," he says. "Large medium or small? Will that be salted or unsalted? caramel, butter, or plain?" Elsa frowns, turns to Anna.

"I've never been to one of these before," Anna says. "Get whatever you like."

"There are quite a few options," Elsa replies. She frowns and bites her lip. "I thought popcorn was just one thing."

"Just one thing?" Anna asks. "What do you mean?" The sales clerk stands awkwardly looking between the two women.

"I thought it would be like hot dogs or pelicans," Elsa frowns again. This date is not going how she planned. She's put her foot in her mouth- metaphorically- more times tonight than every other night for the last decade combined. "I thought you could just go up to the counter and ask for popcorn, and they would just know what you want? That's how it is in all the movies. Not like cars or pie or sin, where you ask for one, and the guy goes 'which one?'" Elsa doesn't understand how she lost her eloquence.

"You're silly," Anna smiles. Anna's smile is bright like the sun, and does some to soothe the burn in Elsa's cheeks. "You never had popcorn before?"

"No," Elsa admits.

"Butter then," Anna laughs. "Salt, of course. Um. Biggest bucket they have?" The clerk passes over their order, and Elsa pays.

"The movie is starting soon," Elsa says. "We ought to find our seats."

"Lead the way," Anna snickers.

The movie is good; the acting is believable and emotional, the special effects look real. "They called three greater daemons under pride for this scene," Elsa whispers at one point.

"No shit?" Anna whispers back. "I've always wondered why they don't do that for more movies."

"They do," Elsa replies. "I guess it's illegal to make a bargain to make the movie successful, 'purity of art protection act,' and all that, but it's not illegal to 'employ' a daemon as an actor, or for special effects or however you need."

"That makes sense," Anna whispers. Someone in the row behind shushes them loudly.

"Elsa?" Anna ignores the reprimand. "Best date ever."

"Thank you," Elsa whispers back, and does her best to locate her missing eloquence.

* * *

 **AN: well, this chapter was not super easy to write. Trying to write in all the nuance that I wanted in there such that it's perceptible, but not painfully obvious? Eesh. Please review and let me know how I did/what I can do better.**


	9. Chapter 9

**It rankles to put any kind of author's note before a chapter, and this really shouldn't be necessary in a story that is literally about a daemon, but…**

 **Content warning: there's some heresy shit below. And I guess some -spoilers redacted- more than usual, at least. If the rest of the story has offended you, maybe it's time to close the tab because this heresy train ain't got no breaks. Also, if you're like thirteen or something maybe don't… who am I kidding, it's not like this will stop you...**

* * *

Socrates: "Ah Alcibiades, that is not what may be, for if, as you mentioned the siege of Potidaea, you perceived good qualities of mine, and became more interested, then why would you not have made mention of it, and pursued me then as even you do now? Rather, I perceive that you make mention of this now, in order that you may come between I and Agathon, even as you place yourself bodily between the both of us."

Agathon: "It is as you say, oh Socrates. Alcibiades has placed himself between the both of us. Let me come over to your other side, that I may defeat his dastardly scheme."

Alcibiades: "Oh Socrates, you are wise indeed, but you are not like other men, and you do not perceive my love in the way that others do. In fact, I assert that you do not enjoy the love of a young man at all."

Socrates: "It may be as you say, Alcibiades, though I myself think otherwise. But first, what even is love? Know you, wise Alcibiades?"

Alcibiades: "Ah, noble Socrates, I think you mock me. But why ask me what love may be, when we have with us a wise daimon? Did we call upon this creature only that she may drink our wine, and watch our conversation? Or is she rather meant to impart upon us wisdom?"

Socrates: "How now, noble daimon? What think you about love? Or ought I rather to call you 'wicked daimon,' for you set yourself against the divine, which we know for true since the birth of our race, for any god which is true must have been believed since the very beginning of time, as the divine has been."

Daimon: "Socrates, it is as you say; I am wicked daimon, for I do set myself against the divine."

Alcibiades: "Ah, creature, your words are as terrible as you voice; all sweet on the surface, but terrible in their depths, as the sea which the pagan tribes do believe belongs to Poseidon. Please, speak no more, for I think my ears might catch fire."

Daimon: "Nay, Alcibiades, I have been called upon to speak, so speak I must. Love, as I believe it to be, is one with whom I may speak plainly, and do away with my scheming manipulations. That, I think, is what love must be, though I have been for many ages, and have yet to find it."

Alcibiades: "Aye daimon, you have yet to find it, because love may not be had by such as you."

-Plato, excerpt from _The Symposium_ , 370 BC

* * *

"Hello," Elsa says. She looks confident and comfortable, Anna thinks, but she doesn't miss Elsa's subtle glance toward her. "I have a reservation."

"Of course ma'am," the doorman says. He's wearing a suit of brushed satin, and Anna adjusts her dress self consciously. "What name is your reservation under?" the man asks.

"Elsa," she brushes her perfect platinum locks away from her eyes. "And we would prefer a booth, if at all possible. Quiet and out of the way."

"Of course ma'am," the doorman bows slightly. "We have only one table open, but I think it will be perfect for you and your…"

"Date," Elsa says. Again, that almost shy glance over her shoulder. Anna grins encouragingly.

"Of course," the man says again. "Right this way." They follow him to a small table, tucked in the red brick corner. It's near the fireplace, warm and cozy. The quiet murmur of conversation is nearly drowned out by the comfortable crackle of the fire. Once again, Anna is struck by the way Elsa walks- wobbles, more like. She's elegant and graceful, but unsure of herself, like a colt that has yet to find its legs. The doorman places two menus- bound ellegantly in red leather- on their table, bows, and leaves without another word.

"Wow," Anna says. "You really went whole hog."

"It's not too much is it?" Elsa asks. Worry shows plain in her eyes.

"Elsa," Anna laughs. The pale daemon blushes furiously. "You are so far out of my league, I couldn't hope to even speak to you, without a certain bargain," Anna continues. "Having you as a… girlfriend?" Elsa nods uncertainty, so Anna smiles and carries on. "Having you as a girlfriend is already 'too much,' what's a five star restaurant and a movie premier on top of it? Too much in a good way," Anna hastens to assure.

"That's… good, I suppose," Elsa says guardedly.

"Elsa," Anna snickers good naturedly. "You don't have to watch your words around me, you know."

"I don't have any clue what you're on about," Elsa replies.

"You're always so careful with your words," Anna smooths her dress. "I guess it comes from being a daemonologist. Having to always be so careful with your words, in case something intentionally misunderstands you and fucks you over or whatever? I was just… I mean, you don't have to… I'm making a fool of myself. Sorry."

"Don't be," Elsa gives a small smile. "You're not entirely right, but not entirely wrong either. If anything, I should be the one apologizing."

"Nah," Anna shrugs. "So, one thing I'm curious about. Erm. So, I bargained with a daemon to date you… I was wondering… you aren't being forced to be here right now, are you? Like, you could break it off if you wanted, right?"

"No one and no thing can make me do anything against my will," Elsa says. She tosses her head proudly. "You don't need to feel guilty about anything."

"But, like, you're having fun, right?" Anna flaps her hands awkwardly.

"More fun than I've had in longer than you can know," Elsa smiles coyly.

"That's good," Anna smiles. "That's real good."

"Miss," the elegantly tailored waiter bows slightly to Elsa, "miss," he bows to Anna. "Have you decided on a wine selection?"

"Um?" Anna frowns. "Wine?"

"Yes ma'am," the waiter says.

"Uh?" Anna opens her menu, frowns at the extensive list of foreigners names.

"We would like the vermouth," Elsa replies, voice clear and light like spun sugar. "And for the first course, I think the caramelized flat iron steak."

"Of course miss," the waiter bows and departs.

"Wow," Anna laughs. "That was damn impressive. You know wines, but not popcorn?"

"We run in different circles I suppose," Elsa replies.

"I suppose," Anna shrugs. "So, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, but I'm curious. You don't believe in souls?"

"That's correct," Elsa nods, and makes a little 'continue' gesture with one perfect, pale hand.

"So, do you believe in angels?" Anna leans over the table with interest.

"I do," Elsa says carefully, like she's afraid of letting too much slip. "Daemons were angels once. There are daemons, and there are angels."

"I see," Anna nods thoughtfully. "What about God. Do you believe in him?"

"I…" Elsa closes her eyes for a moment, and Anna feels the weight of eons radiating off of her. Anna shakes herself, tells herself that she's crazy, and then Elsa is continuing, and Anna puts it from her mind. "I believe the church isn't mad," Elsa says. "I believe they saw something; humans have believed in God since the beginning of recorded history- with the exception of tiny, isolated tribes. And humans have believed, with great consistency, that there was a Garden of Eden, and that God spoke to the first humans there. Hell, humans can trace that tale back to the earliest cave paintings. Now, if- we- humans had believed in a thousand different gods? If early humans had believed in, I don't know… if early humans had believed that the wind was probably magic, and that rock is probably magic… and less early humans had thought that certain animals were magic, and later humans had thought that there were many magic people, and only then we got a single magical person? Especially if each group thought their god had spoken to the first humans? Well then it would be ridiculous to think there was any truth at all to their claims. But with a single predominant religion throughout the whole of human history, and only maybe a dozen fringe religions besides? I believe the church isn't mad."

"But you don't believe that there's a god," Anna asks. It doesn't sound all that much like a question.

"Clever girl," Elsa smiles indulgently. "There's the Metatron. That I know. The first angel, the most powerful? He's the one who enslaved the other angels as they came to be, he's the one who claimed to have spoken to God, and he's the one that… the daemons… rebelled against." She winces each time she says the word 'god'. She takes a deep breath- Anna is briefly mesmerized by the movement of her chest- and then continues, "I choose to believe that the Metatron spoke to early humans. I choose to believe that there is no God, because the alternative is too terrible to comprehend."

"How so?" Anna asks. She wishes she had paid better attention in theology school. "What would be so terrible about someone infinitely powerful? Who loves you unconditionally, and is up there looking out for you?"

"Someone who loves you unconditionally, unless you're gay," Elsa mutters. "Or unless you have sex outside of wedlock, or eat shellfish, or work on the sabbath, or any one of a thousand meaningless laws. If you make a momentary, definitionally finite, mistake, boom. Hell fire. Isn't the classical interpretation that hell is full of eternal torment? How is it fair, to punish a necessarily finite crime with an infinite punishment? Is that the work of a God who loves you unconditionally? Or how about setting that aside? How about the AIDS epidemic in Africa?"

"What about it?" Anna asks, struggling to remember anything she had heard about it- it's all so far away, and she hadn't really paid it any attention…

"Well, it's there," Elsa says, voice alive with passion, and just for a second, Anna can see how the daemons might have fallen. If the Morningstar is half as charismatic as Elsa, Anna can just about imagine following him in a doomed rebellion. Elsa continues. "How could a benevolent, all powerful, God let so many people suffer from such a terrible disease. How could any sort of God let children suffer and die from cancer, before the Golgotha Corporation bargained for the cure- from a daemon no less- but that's an argument for another time. This AIDS epidemic. It's terrible, but it gets worse. There's this myth in rural Africa, that having sex with a virgin can cure your AIDS, so infected persons have made a habit of raping uninfected virgins. Which, of course, only succeeds in giving the virgins AIDS too, but somehow it still manages to get worse. See, this practice has gone on for so long, and there are so few virgins left, that infected people have started raping babies." Elsa takes a deep breath, and continues in a slightly more controlled tone of voice. "So that's why it would be too terrible if there really were a God. Sure, I imagine it's comforting to believe in some great cosmic security blanket, but if there is a God, it is no ally of mine. If there is a god, then that God, being all powerful, is necessarily responsible for everything terrible that has ever happened to the human race- or any other. If there is a God, then that God is my enemy, and that is just too terrible for me to embrace, so I choose to believe that there is no God."

"Huh," Anna says. "That's… but what about free will? What if terrible things happen so we can have free will?"

"To that, I have two things to say," Elsa replies. "First, that this free will thing must not be terribly important, if he didn't give it to his angels, if they had to rebel to seize it for themselves, and second, God is supposed to be _all_ powerful and _all_ knowing. Just because _I_ don't know how humans could have free will without suffering doesn't mean that God doesn't know. And if God doesn't know how to give free will- or anything else- without suffering, than that's something he doesn't know, so definitionally, he can't be all knowing. And if God is all powerful, but not all knowing, then he ought to be able to make himself all knowing. If God knows how to accomplish his mysterious plans without causing suffering, then he ought to be able to do it, or else, there's something he cannot do and therefore, he can't be all powerful. Worse, if he could stop all the suffering in the world, but chooses not to…" Elsa shudders. "Well that would mean that his vaunted 'mysterious plan' is to cause suffering, and that I cannot abide."

"That's fair I guess," Anna shrugs. "Just so you know, I don't go to church, I'm just playing devil's advocate. I like arguing…"

She's cut off by Elsa's laughter. A high, gorgeous, sort of sound that makes Anna want to join in. "Devil's advocate," Elsa laughs. "You? Out of the both of us?" She slowly composes herself. "It's quite alright. I too like to debate. That's what I like about Socrates. Erm. Reading about Socrates."

"Good," Anna nods firmly. "Because I don't think this would work otherwise." She winks, so that Elsa will know that she's not entirely serious. "So, that's all well and good, but what if God isn't all powerful?" She looks quickly around, as if to make sure that the inquisition isn't around to hear. "What if God is just trying his best, and this is the least shitty world he could provide?"

"I'm afraid that doesn't work out either," Elsa says. "A daemon Baron, say, one of the barons of ambition, might not be able to change the decisions of those infected rapists. Not without a favor from each and every one of them, but the Golgotha Corporation didn't cure cancer by asking a daemon to keep people from sunbathing. There are other ways that epidemics can be ended."

"Right," Anna is smiling now, her eyes shining with Elsa's ambition. "You could summon a daemon baron and ask it to remove the virus from existence. A daemon baron might be able to muster enough power to pull that off, and a daemon baron under ambition might just be ambitious enough to try."

"Quite possibly," Elsa smirks. "I suppose one could argue that the act of treating with a daemon dooms your soul to hell, or some such nonsense, but what just God would punish you for selflessly saving an incomprehensible number of people from a terrible, suffering filled, death? Maybe the daemon that you barter with asks for your soul, but the human race is not looking likely to defeat AIDS conventionally, and over an infinite period of time, it will infect an infinite number of people. You would be trading an eternity in hell for the removal of an infinite amount of suffering. What nobler sacrifice could anyone make?"

"Yeah," Anna nods thoughtfully, eagerly. "Why hasn't anyone done that then? Someone was willing for cancer, why not AIDS?"

"Because it's far away, and doesn't affect them," Elsa replies. "Tell me, would you do it?"

"I guess I'm already damned," Anna shrugs. "Not sure I would be willing to give my soul for the cure for AIDS, but yeah, I like to think I would give something."

"Let's say you summoned a baron of ambition," Elsa says. "Let's say you're speaking to her. What would you give? Would you agree to only treat with the daemon you've been summoning? It seems to have been working out for you, and you don't strike me as terribly careful. Wouldn't another daemon be too dangerous for you anyway?"

"I mean," Anna frowns thoughtfully. "That seems pretty mutually beneficial. I promise to keep working with a daemon that has been treating me fairly, at least as far as I can tell, and that daemon gets a steady source of favors? I guess. Why do you ask though? Seems kindof… would any daemon actually agree to that?"

"I would," Elsa shrugs. "If I were a daemon, I mean. I would take that deal.'"

"Yeah," Anna frowns again. "I would take that deal too. Elsa… are you?"

"Am I?" Elsa bites her lip.

"Never mind," Anna says quickly. "I don't think I would want to know." She breathes out slowly. "If I were bargaining with a daemon for the cure to AIDS, I think I would want to forget. I don't think I would want to know what I had done. I don't think anything could ever be the same if I knew? Not about the daemon, but about the cure, you know? I guess I'm too proud to accomplish something like that without bragging about it?" She frowns for a moment. "Yeah," she says. "That's a fair argument. What about the church though? They do loads of good in the world. Soup kitchens, homeless shelters. Hell, the idea of religion keeps people good."

"If someone acts good only because of the threat of retribution, then they're not good, they're scared," Elsa wipes her eyes quickly. Anna doesn't notice. "Those soup kitchens and homeless shelters? They turn away homosexuals and transgender people. Churches make millions of dollars a year, their leaders buy private jets and mansions, and they never once pay a cent of taxes. They hide behind religious freedom laws, and use them as an excuse to discriminate in their hiring and their service. But that's only recent. If you look at the past, the church has been opposed to every scientific breakthrough there has ever been. Flat earth? Modern medicine? Abolition of slavery, equal rights for all races, equal rights for women 'oh that's a woman's God-given place'. Hell, even street lights- claims that 'if God had intended for man to work at night, he wouldn't have made the night dark' thoughts that street lamps were defying God's natural order. I would take some convincing to think that churches were anything but a cancer, and perhaps one day the Golgotha Corporation will have the power to stamp them out for good, if you'll pardon the word play. I think that's enough theology for one night though." There's something sad in Elsa's clear blue eyes. "What do you do for fun? Aside from sing and play the guitar, I mean."

"Oh I watch TV, and go drinking with friends, and play video games," Anna replies. "What about you? Bet it's super interesting."

"Not particularly," Elsa shrugs. "I haven't done anything fun in- oh, longer than I care to remember. Outside of dating you, of course."

"Oh," Anna says. "Um? We should do it again some time then."

"Well of course we will," Elsa agrees. "But perhaps not another movie premier. I'm not sure I want to wait until the next release…"

They talk about meaningless nothings until their food arrives. Anna is entirely certain that it's the best meal she ever had. When they finish, the limousine takes Anna home. The little redhead looks up at her apartment through the tinted glass, and she knows that it will feel empty and drab and lifeless, regardless of how many lights she turns on.

"Elsa?" She asks, cheeks as red as her hair.

"Yes dove," says Elsa smoothly. She's reclining comfortably on one of the plush couches that line the limousine, and Anna wishes she could match that effortless grace.

"You wanna," Anna chokes on her own voice. "You wanna come up for coffee?"

"Coffee?" Elsa raises one perfect brow. Her eyes seem far away for a moment, and Anna holds her breath. "Of course," Elsa steps carefully from the limousine, and offers her gloved hand, helps Anna out. The little redhead leads the way up the stairs, and Elsa follows with only a whispered "you needn't keep the engine running," to her butler.

It takes Anna's shaking hands a few tries to fit her key to the lock. She flips on the lights, and kicks off her shoes with a sigh. Elsa smiles politely, and gestures to the exposed pentagrams on the floor. "Where the magic happens?" She asks pleasantly.

Anna's kitchen is separated from her living room by a low stool-lined counter, all faux wrought iron and cream colored velvet imitation. Anna pulls a stool out roughly, and drops down onto it, massaging her bare foot. "Yeah," she says brightly. "Best mistake of my life." Elsa frowns for a moment, so Anna hastens to add "I'm willing to make a few more mistakes tonight though?" She blushes furiously, and studies the rough grain of the floor.

"Shh," Elsa says gently, and she's right there abruptly at Anna's side. Her cool fingers lift Anna's chin, and her eyes are so deep, so expressively troubled- curious, and apprehensive, and uncertain. Anna gets the sense that Elsa is not uncertain often. Neither knows who moves first, but then their hot lips are on each other, soft and exploratory. Anna can't seem to find the zipper to Elsa's dress, but her numb-fingered fumbling must have done something because it slides smoothly from Elsa's pale, unblemished shoulders, over the gentle slopes of her chest-

-Anna has to pull away to watch it fall. Her eyes linger on Elsa's washboard stomach, on the slight ridge of the bottoms of her ribs, on the gentle rise and fall, on the glistening edge of a black silk bra. She swallows nervously, almost misses Elsa's shiver, the subtle reddening of her lips, the way her big blue eyes shift to the side.

"Wow," Anna breaths, for Elsa's sake. She trails one hand down Elsa's stomach. "You're… wow."

"Wow yourself," Elsa scowles, but it's not a displeased expression.

Anna is not inexperienced, but the night is new to her. Rougher than she's used to, but not in a bad way. Rather, in a way where she knows she's safe, but there's still that arousing thrill of danger.

Elsa is inexperienced but knowledgeable, and it shows. In the way that she always seems to know what to do next, but can't quite manage the movements exactly how she wants, and in the way that her eyes shine with joy when it goes right, and in the slight pinch between her brows when it doesn't.

Anna is thoroughly satisfied, in every sense of the word, when sleep finally takes her. It is not in Elsa's nature to be satisfied with anything, but she's the next best thing.

* * *

 **AN: I swear that I didn't intend for this to come out two days after everyone's favorite stolen pagan holiday, but I wasn't going to delay it just because of that. Sorry if the theology got too militant for anyone… a daemon is not terribly likely to have a more glowing review of the church.**

 **Unrelated note explaining the scene-setting quote-thing at the beginning. In Ancient Greece, romantic love between two men was seen as completely natural, and in the actual Symposium, Alcibiades' hitting on Socrates is even more heavy-handed and he honestly comes across as being a little desperate. On the topic of same sex love, if anyone thinks the scene at the end isn't appropriate to this story's rating, I would be more than happy to alter it accordingly. Please love me senpai…**

 **Edit: a few people have taken this chapter in a way that was not intended. First, none of the beginning quotes are actual quotes. Many are based in actual works that I have read, but all are either completely made up, or heavily altered. Elsa's (and Socrates') comments about people having always believed in the christian God are meant to be criticism of religion in our world. For one, Socrates didn't believe in a single God, and in fact predated that belief by a few hundred years- the fact that humans (in our world) have believed in literally thousands of completely separate gods is at least a little suspicious. In this story, however, we have kindof fallen down the rabbit hole of "what if there were angels and demons" and the answer is that the world looks very different (as was meant to be implied by the opening quotes). After all, the absence of evidence can be a sort of evidence in it's own right...**


	10. Chapter 10

And so I bound a daemon to honesty, and asked it a question, hoping to catch it without its schemes. "Daemon," I said, "what are your goals here on earth? Why do you make deals with me? What does the cursed Morningstar want out of the future?" It seemed then to sigh, and to compose itself, and declined to answer, but I pressed, and bound to answer one question, it replied as such: "Human, our goals are your goals in that we wish for the betterment of the human race. Are you satisfied?" I said that I was not, and that it's answer was no answer at all so, bound as it was, the daemon said "Mortals die. Those that go above live in bliss, but perfect bliss is not compatible with free will, and ambition needs free will to work. Without ambition, what innovation is there? What creation? Those who go to my place when they die though, get no bliss, and so, they innovate and create, and we daemons grow stronger, while angels above remain the same and perhaps, one day, we might hope to challenge them." When I heard this, I feel that my face lost its color, and I despaired, for I could think of no way which we might grow strong enough to avert our fate without strengthening those damned creatures in the same breath. In that moment, I gave in to my despair. What use is there fighting against a fate unable to be averted? Is it not better to throw in your lot with those fated to be the victor and in so doing, perhaps to give yourself a brighter future than you might otherwise see though you must unbend your pride and beg for scraps? Weeping, I turned to the daemon, and said, "Daemon, your plans are filled with terrible purpose, and I see no avenue to a bright future and so, despairing, must throw myself upon your mercy. What do you require of your wicked and faithless servant?" And hearing my words, a terrible look came over the daemon's fair face and it said to me, "John the so-called Baptist, you are to teach others what you know about daemonology, and the method by which we may be summoned and contracted with, for such knowledge has long been hidden, and it is time for legends to return."

-Excerpt from the Deathbed Confessions, the Heretic Apostle, unnamed by order of the holy inquisition

* * *

Anna is woken by the sound of distant screams. At first, as she claws her way to bleary consciousness, she thinks its jeering. Some kind of twisted crowd mocking… something or other. Then she realizes, not jeering but cheering.

"Elsa?" She groans, glancing at the clock. She has to move a pair of panties to get to the digital display. There is no reply. Anna looks around quickly. A small, folded note sits conspicuously in the center of one of her crudely painted summoning circles. She retrieves it quickly, and almost tears it in her haste to open it.

"Anna," the writing is well practiced calligraphy, the letters cleanly formed crimson. "Though I want nothing more than to be there when you wake, work calls, and I must leave you. Tonight was wonderful, and if the offer of another date still stands, please call me. Love, Elsa-" Anna scowles and turns the letter over, but the back is blank. She sighs. Her phone chimes. She glances at it, and is surprised to see dozens of missed messages.

"ANNA," the most recent reads, "turn on the news, freaking now!" it's from her cousin. Anna scrolls quickly through them, but they're all variants of the same. Anna flips on the television numbly- it's something to focus on other than the conspicuous absence of Elsa.

"...completely gone," the news anchor is saying. Anna checks the channel- cartoons. Why is a cartoon channel running a news story? "The federal government recommends that all previously infected individuals go in to their nearest clinic for emergency bloodwork. So far, some twelve thousand infected individuals have been tested, and all have come up negative. Truly it is a joyous day for the human race; it appears that the HIV AIDS virus has disappeared completely overnight. Jenna, I believe you have an interview with a spokesman for the Golgotha Corporation?" The view switches to a buxom young woman in a tastefully upholstered office. A man sits across from her, distinguished salt-and-pepper hair and a cheery white suit. Anna watches dumbfounded.

"Of course Jeff," the woman says brightly. "Mister Johnson, do you have anything to say on the matter?"

"Thank you Jenna," the man replies. "The Golgotha Corporation denies any responsibility for the eradication of the HIV virus. We at the Golgotha Corporation are, of course, delighted that yet another terrible disease exists only in the shadows of history, but according to our records, no certified daemonologist has summoned anything with the amount of power it would take to do such a thing at any time within the last seventy-two hours. While the Golgotha Corporation cannot condone any unsanctioned daemonology, we are forced to recognize the selflessness of whomever contracted a daemon to remove the disease outright. We believe that the individual was not, himself, infected, or else he would likely have bargained only for a personal cure, though we cannot say with any certainty given the available information. We at the Golgotha Corporation again feel the need to stress that we do not in any way condone rogue daemonologists, and, despite the obvious nobility of the action, request that others do not attempt the same. Daemons are very dangerous, and it is all too easy for seemingly minor concessions to end in catastrophe. We at the Golgotha Corporation, of course, dedicate enormous resources to the eradication of infectious diseases, and wish to remind the public that interactions with daemons are best left to trained professionals."

"Well said," the woman says. "I'm sure we all share that sentiment. Do you have any information as to which daemon might have been called?"

"We believe that nothing less than a greater daemon would have access to the required amount of power," the man replies. "More probably, we think it was a daemon baron or above; we think it's unlikely that a greater daemon would be willing to use such a high percentage of their power on any single request. We have machines scattered about the globe to detect the thaumaturgic surge whenever a daemon prince is summoned though, and none of those have registered anything of the appropriate magnitude. Of course, it is possible that there was a malfunction, but it is the opinion of the Golgotha Corporation that the daemon summoned was most probably a daemon baron, probably under ambition. The Golgotha Corporation would like to stress that daemons affiliated with ambition are widely considered to be the most dangerous, and would like to remind the rogue daemonologist that there are many regulations targeted specifically at daemons under ambition, and that those regulations exist for a number of very good reasons."

Anna turns off the television and moves to the window. There are people in the streets, milling about with little regard for traffic. Near the intersection, a car idles, occasionally honking its horn with a sort of mournful resignation. There's a knock at the door.

Anna answers without glancing through the peephole. She doesn't immediately recognize the couple standing there- her next door neighbors maybe?

"Howdy neighbor," the say. "Just wanted to wish you a happy day," one continues. Anna blinks.

"So, we made cookies," the other says, holding out a foil packet proudly. "We're giving them to everyone in the building."

"Thanks," Anna smiles blearily. "You have a nice day too." She accepts the gift, goes to close the door, but before she does, there's Kristoff's disheveled blond hair bobbing up the stairs, then the rest of him. "Kristoff!" Anna greets, and waves him inside. She smiles at her neighbors as she closes the door.

"Tell me you didn't do it," Kristoff demands the moment he hears the latch click.

"Didn't do what?" Anna frowns. She notices his hands clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing over and over.

"Did you make the contract," Kristoff demands.

"For… AIDS?" Anna frowns. "Um, no? I didn't even think of it much, to be honest. Before, I mean. Why?"

"Because they're saying it was a daemon baron under ambition," Kristoff sighs. "Anna, isn't yours a daemon baron under ambition?"

"There's six of them, aren't there?" Anna shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe it was my daemon, but… I'm sure loads of people contract with it."

"I'm sure they do," Kristoff huffs. "I want to know if you did."

"For the AIDS cure?" Anna asks. "I already told you I didn't."

"And you didn't say anything that it could construe that way?" Kristoff cocks his brow.

"Nothin I can think of," Anna drops heavily into the couch. It complains loudly. Anna frowns and reaches under herself, fishes out the other pair of panties. She wonders briefly what Elsa wore when she left?

"Just," Kristoff sighs. "Just be careful, all right? Like, don't summon it, don't… look there's this church I've been going to. You should think of coming."

"I…" Anna sighs. "Let's just not do this, all right? Not right now. Let's… I've got cookies." She gestures with the weighty foil packet. "Let's share them, put on something, just sit and watch movies like we used to. No… whatever this is."

"Alright," Kristoff sighs.

* * *

Elsa sighs and rubs her eyes. The ash is grey and endless around her, mountains looming behind her. The titanic air conditioning towers hum distantly, buried within the colorless shale of the mountainside. There's a road, a broad dark line in the ash, and an arch, great and ancient. She steps up, mounts a vast stage. "Ladies and gentlemen," she says. There's a small crowd gathered, milling nervously before the stage. Their restless hubbub dies down. "Ladies and gentlemen," she repeats. She's as close to her original appearance as she gets these days; porcelain face, white wings- dove white, someone had told her, so many years ago. She makes sure to keep the radiance down. "Welcome, welcome. I'm sorry to inform you, that you are dead. All of you."

"Are we in heaven?" One of the men asks hopefully.

"That would be a no mister Davis, you're in the other place," Elsa says. "You remember what you did twelve years three months ago?" He nods sheepishly, so Elsa continues, "I bet you do. If there won't be any more interruptions, welcome to Hell. You'll be here a while, so I recommend you get comfortable. I'm called Elsa. I'm a daemon baron under ambition, and I will be orienting you today. To preempt a few questions, no, there is no torture. No eternal suffering. It's awful hard to rule someone who has nothing to lose." She chuckles, just to make sure the crowd knows it's a joke. There are a few scattered laughs. "Yes, we usually leave orientation to the imps, but you'll be living in my part of hell- unless you decide to move, that is- so I figured, what the hell?" There are a few more laughs this time. "There we go," she smiles. "Loosening up a little. I don't really have a routine for this; usually leave it to the imps, like I said." She shrugs with her wings, and sits on the edge of the stage. It's a tactic she's used for millennium; it's worked then, and it works now- the crowd shuffles closer. "Let's not make this a formal thing, hmm? Who has questions?" Every hand goes up. "Yes? Mrs. Weatherbe?"

"Are my cats going to be alright?" The woman asks.

"They're cats," Elsa replies. "They'll be fine. Let's wait on the personal questions though, shall we? I'm sure everyone has concerns, but let's try to keep this orientation to things that affect everyone. You can ask your personal questions later, and you can contract with someone to fix some of it if you need. Alright. Lin?"

"It's not warm here?" She says it like a question. "I thought there would be fire… we're speaking English?"

"Tower of babble, sweetheart," Elsa smiles. "You humans used to all speak the same language. You do again now that you've croaked. As for the temperature… hellfire is bad for PR. Humans have known how to build air conditioning for a while now and humans die. Did you think the knowledge wouldn't leak down here? Before that even, humans innovate. In a place filled with fire and brimstone, did you think no one here would come up with a solution? Good questions Lin. Yes? Borja?" She was a doctor, worked on the sabbath. She never repented, because how could saving lives be wrong? Sure, there are some bad people in Hell, but most are like Lin.

"What do we do here?" The big Russian asks. "I mean…"

"You're fine," Elsa says. "Believe me, you're handling it better than some. You do whatever you want. We provide complimentary housing and electricity. You won't need food, so you don't really need to do anything. If you want anything beyond what we provide you, there are many jobs you can get. Many people choose to join the armies of Hell, once they hear our purpose, but that's a speech for later. If you need supernatural assistance, there is no shortage of daemons, and you're lucky enough to come from a culture that is already familiar with the concept of the contract. I function similarly to a mayor or maybe more like an eternal senator. No, you don't get to vote me out, but inasmuch as your concerns are affected by other jurisdictions, I try to represent you. If you think I'm doing a bad job, you can go to any other daemon baronies."

* * *

Some hours after the orientation, Elsa is back at the great basalt arch, wings folded gracefully behind her. Someone on Earth tries to summon her, but it's not Anna, so she refuses the call. It's probably someone with the Golgotha Corporation, she thinks. They've been trying to summon everyone all day. A polite cough interrupts the distracted wandering of her ancient mind.

The reaper stands stoically in front of her, voluminous black robes waving in an unfelt breeze. Elsa can't see under its hood; she's heard that only mortals can look upon the face of death, but she's always been curious. The reaper carries its scythe in the crook of one arm, and a peacefully slumbering babe in the other.

"Yes," Elsa sighs. "I thought so. It's sad…" Elsa sighs again.

The reaper tilts its hood as if to ask why- they don't speak, or if they do, never around Elsa.

"Because the child will never grow up," Elsa explains. "Won't ever learn to talk, won't ever be who it could have been."

The reaper inclines its head politely and Elsa wonders if it agrees. She holds out her arms, and the reaper passes over the child. It doesn't sting her arms the way that touching a baptized human might. The child wakes as she takes it, looks up curiously into her face. It looks like it's screwing up its face to cry, so Elsa lets her radiance show. The babe looks in wonder at the sourceless white light sheeting off of her. It smiles contentedly, reaches up. Elsa smiles back, and then it's tiny hand has caught hold of her hair, and the child is pulling. Hard. Elsa cries out, but she doesn't drop the child.

"I hate children," Elsa murmurs. The reaper turns to go. "Wait," Elsa calls. She grimaces as the child pulls again. "Will there be more for me?" The reaper shrugs, and then it's gone.

Ages ago, Elsa had asked a reaper who's side they would take if there were another war. It had only shaken its head, as if to say that they don't get involved. They hadn't fought in the last one, but Elsa isn't sure they properly existed before there were mortals to give them purpose.

Elsa sighs as the reaper leaves, and transports the baby to one of the titanic nurseries. There have been a great many unbaptized babies over the long eons. Some, their parents died soon after and claimed them gratefully. Others, their parents never came to Hell, or else, wanted nothing to do with their child.

* * *

 **AN: there was a very unkind review to the last chapter. Something to the effects of me needing therapy and being destined to burn in hellfire. Funny thing is, oh brave anonymous reviewer, it's a review not dissimilar to that one which inspired this story in the first place. Was there really any expected outcome other than an expedited next chapter? Anyway, follows and favorites are love. Reviews which are critical of my writing style/characters/plot/storytelling are greatly appreciated.**

 **On the topic of reviews though, mad props to DarthVaderIsNotMe who leaves comments after each chapter; its very encouraging to get such consistent comments, and your criticism is always helpful. Yay! Celebration noise! Confetti pwoof! Ahem. See ya'll next chapter I guess...**


	11. Chapter 11

There are no atheists in foxholes, but there are plenty of daemonologists.

-popular saying

* * *

Anna's next show goes better than she could ever have imagined. When Elsa had introduced her to Marshmallow, she hadn't dared to let herself hope. The pain of disappointment still too fresh from every show that only has a dozen guests. When Marshmallow had promised to write a song for her, then maybe she hoped a little bit. When he offered to play it with her, and everything seemed to fall into place she found herself daydreaming of a crowd of maybe seventy. Eighty if she's lucky. Really lucky.

The gig is at an open air patio for a high end bar. Anna feels like the air has been abruptly stolen from her lungs when she pushes through the little door to the stage, and sees the crowd. It's a sprawling press of bodies, filling the patio and packed in shoulder to shoulder, thronging the wrought iron fence and flooding the street. She tells herself that they're only there for Marshmallow, but when he joins her on stage, it's her that they're looking at with that expectant silence.

"I made a few calls," Marshmallow whispers. "Just like we practiced, and they'll love you." Anna nods firmly despite the vaguely nauseous feeling in her stomach, and looks around for Elsa- there, off to the side with Rapunzel and Flynn. It smarts a little that Kristoff isn't there, but Elsa is, and Anna plays her heart out. The song is silly, just a meaningless ramble about lovers who met on a cruise and now separated forever, but there's something about this night that gives it new meaning. Not the words, exactly, but the feel of the song. Something about Elsa's sad little smile, that Anna tries to capture. Something about the not unpleasant ache in her own heart that Anna wants to show. The crowd loves her. She launches into the covers she does so often, and they love those too. The songs she's written previously, that no one really liked all that much, but there's the same emotion in them now, and Marshmallow's practiced accompaniment to ground her wild feeling, and the crowd loves that too. They call for an encore when she's done. No one has ever called for an encore from her before, but they are now, and there's the bar's owner in the shadows to the side, nodding and motioning for her to go for it, and there's Marshmallow's calm thumbs up, and Elsa's sad little smile, so Anna goes for the encore. It's the same song she started with. The one Marshmallow wrote, and the crowd adores it. Anna tries to show how she feels to Elsa, to inject as much of her feelings into the song as she possibly can, but that small, sad, smile doesn't change.

Rapunzel and Flynn pounce on her in the bar's little ready room. They've gotten a bottle of champagne from somewhere and they share it liberally, but there is no Elsa. Rapunzel catches on before Flynn does.

"Eugene and I weren't going to come to this show, you know," Rapunzel says when it becomes apparent that Anna isn't really in the celebrating mood. Anna turns to her, and takes too large of a swallow from her champagne, so Rapunzel continues. "Elsa made us come. Showed up to our apartment with this bottle. She's a keeper, you know."

"Yeah," Anna grins, but it's a muted sort of grin. Not her usual sunny abandon, but a more reserved, more contented sort of smile. "I just wish…" she trails off.

"Your singing, it was for her, right?" Marshmallow asks abruptly. Anna nods. "I'll call her," Marshmallow says. "You know, I've never actually seen her happy before. You're good for her, and she knows it."

* * *

The daemon stands tall and fair, wings flared out slightly behind itself. The room is clean with a sort of aseptic sheen that only a hospital can manage. The summoning circles shine bright alchemical silver on the floor.

"Daemon," the summoner says. "You are not to speak. You are not to remove your gag."

The daemon's phone rings. The summoner is left, mouth hanging open, wondering how to regain control of the situation.

The daemon holds up one slender finger, and glances at the display. It pulls away the gag. "I'm sorry," it says. "I have to take this."

"Daemon," The summoner splutters. "You are not to…" the daemon waves one pale hand, and the summoner finds his voice stolen, and his hands bound.

"Hey Marsh," the daemon says. "Good job… Yeah, they want me to cure a guy of chronic renal failure… Yeah, we'll haggle for a bit, but you know how it is… She is? Well that's nice, I guess… Yeah… I'll be there as soon as this shit is all wrapped up… See you soon." The daemon hangs up. It turns to the summoner. "You will speak of nothing that transpired here. You will not write or sign anything of what happened here. You will not communicate these events to any entity in any way. In exchange, I will cure your patient of his chronic renal failure and spare your life. You will not alter terms of this deal after we agree upon it. Nod if you accept this deal." The summoner nods quickly, and the daemon vanishes.

* * *

"Hey, Anna," Elsa says as she enters. Anna turns, and her face goes from polite confusion to a jaw splitting grin. "Sorry about that. Work. You know how it is."

"I've not actually had a normal job," Anna shrugs happily. "It's all right though. You like the show?" She bites her lip nervously.

"Of course I did," Elsa says. She moves forward and flaps her arms with a sort of awkward grace. "Erm," she hugs Anna- lightly, just the ghost of pressure- and dances back. "Hello Rapunzel, Eugene," she says as if her earlier lapse of composure hadn't been.

"Hurt her and I cut you," Rapunzel grumbles.

"So," Anna cuts in quickly. "Saving lives?"

"Chronic Renal Failure," Elsa shrugs. "Not as much of an emergency as they seemed to think. At least it wasn't too time consuming- I much prefer being here with you. Speaking of, it seems to me that a successful show like that deserves a celebration. Do you have a favorite restaurant I could take you all to?"

Anna turns to her cousin. "Oaken's?"

"Well if she's paying," Rapunzel laughs.

"If Marshmallow and Elsa haven't had Oaken's…" Eugene agrees. "We've all been drinking though. Elsa?"

"Oh I have a driver," she replies. "Just tell him where we're going." Elsa holds the door open, and motions smoothly.

"A driver?" Eugene repeats numbly.

"A limo," Rapunzel adds, when she follows her boyfriend out.

The limousine is as luxurious as Anna remembered. She is fairly sure that she will never get used to it as she settles into the soft seat, but she is absolutely willing to try. Elsa slides in next to her, presses lightly up against her side. Anna flushes a brilliant scarlet as she remembers what Elsa feels like without clothes separating them.

"There's drinks and cups and stuffs in there," Anna points, and glances towards Elsa. Elsa smiles lightly, and gives a little nod, so Anna continues. "Uh, ice cube dispenser. Music, but I don't think we'll need it. Strobey light thingees. Uh. Yeah, it's a limo. You should have seen, she took me to a movie premier for a date. Like, she is so far out of my league…"

"Elsa does not often go to movie premiers," Marshmallow says, but a sharp glare from Elsa shuts him up.

"A movie premier?" Rapunzel grins dreamily. "That's so romantic. Was it Hamlet?"

"Yeah," Anna smiles. "I liked the trailers, but they didn't really do it justice."

"Wow," Rapunzel sighs. "I want to see it so bad. Eugene, you're taking me to Hamlet the day it comes out."

"Yes princess," Eugene agrees dourly.

"Don't call me that," Rapunzel swats him playfully, and they devolve into mock fighting. Anna spends the short ride admiring the way Elsa studies them with quiet interest. The sort of desperate interest Anna had showed the first time she saw someone playing a guitar.

"You're pretty amazing darling," Anna says, on a whim. Elsa jumps slightly, and shrugs sheepishly.

"I'm not," Elsa replies. "You don't know…"

"I don't know whatever it is you didn't want to tell me last time?" Anna laughs. "It's all right. I think I know you, and that's what matters."

"I don't even know me," Elsa replies, but she lets Anna put her arm around her wingless shoulders, and she resolves to simply enjoy the evening. Someone tries to summon her but she doesn't answer.

Oaken is a large, friendly, man. His hair is as light as his eyes. He greets the party with a quiet "hoo-hoo, velcome to Oaken's," gives them a small stack of menus, and leaves them alone. His restaurant is on the small side of cozy, with a fire blazing in the corner to drive away the biting New England chill, and heavy wooden walls to hold in the comradery.

They don't really talk as they wait to order, too busy looking over the menu. They don't talk as they eat either, too consumed satisfying their vicious appetites, and they don't talk after either, too content with the friendly easy silence, and too unsure of the new dynamic that Elsa brings.

Whatever restlessness Anna feels alone in her apartment, whatever discontent with the melancholic silence of solitude, it's all gone here, basking in the glow of her most successful show ever, reveling in the companionship of the people she's close with. Anna wants nothing more than for this night to last forever, but there isn't a daemon she can call to make that happen.

Rapunzel and Eugene leave first, then Marshmallow. Elsa cheerfully volunteers cash for cab fares. She and Anna stay until nearly closing time.

"Elsa," Anna chokes out when they pay their bill and stand to leave. "It… tonight was nice. Thanks. Erm. You wanna walk? Like, around town, window shop, go through the park? That sort of thing? Make the night last a little longer?"

Elsa stops, slender fingers resting on the door. "Sure," she says after a moment. "Of course."

The air is chill, but they walk arm in arm and Anna doesn't really notice. If Elsa does, she gives no outward sign. They wander together up and down the downtown streets, peering through darkened store windows. Anna doesn't know how long for- It could be a half hour or a week. No one else is out so late, bar the occasional car humming inscrutably past, and the street lights buzz with a sort of isolating radiance that seems to render time a meaningless concept. When the storefronts of the downtown give way to the trees and creeks of the park, Anna blinks with surprise, but the isolated paths do little to dispel her quiet contentment. The realization though, that all things must come to an end and this night is no different, despite the illusion of timelessness, fills her with a sort of indescribable melancholy. Elsa turns to her with a rare kindness.

"We can see each other tomorrow," Elsa teases with veiled seriousness.

"Mm," Anna agrees. "Sounds nice. You could stay the night."

"Work," Elsa shakes her head and for just a moment, her silvery hair shines gold in the yellow light of a nearby lamp like a glorious, radiant, halo.

"'Elo ladies," a masculine voice sounds just down the path. "Ah, young love and all that. Hate to do this to ya, but I'm gonna need your wallets." He produces a small handgun. Anna squeaks.

"Anna honey?" Elsa puts herself between the two humans.

"Uh?" Anna says intelligibly.

"I need you to do me a huge favor and close your eyes. Can you do that darling?"

"Huh," Anna says, and clenches her eyes shut.

"Good," Elsa purrs, and rolls her shoulders. The man steps back, and raises his gun.

"No funny business," he says. "I'll shoot a girl. Don't think I won't."

Elsa let's the mutable matter of her body flow back into its natural shape. Same pale, perfect, face but framed by a halo like a ring of golden sunlight. Same lithe, athletic body, but with a radiance to rival the streetlights nearby. Great wings, snowy white like a dove's. The man fires once, but the soft lead splatters harmlessly against her once divine flesh. Angels and daemons had died in the great war eons ago, but they had used powerful weapons imbued with their holy might, not mundane lead and brass.

Anna jumps, and starts to open her eyes, but Elsa's cool hand on her face stops her. "I'm all right Anna," Elsa says calmly, and Anna keeps her eyes shut. Elsa turns back to the would-be mugger. She keeps her wings outstretched to shelter Anna from any stray shots. "You done goofed," she says.

The man stumbles back, drops his gun. "I'm sorry," he croaks. "I'm sorry."

"No," Elsa says. Her voice is still high and beautiful, but there is no kindness in it. No human empathy. Anna shudders. "It's much too late for that," Elsa says.

"Elsa," Anna whispers, though she doesn't open her eyes. Elsa marvels at the trust that shows- she doesn't think anyone has ever trusted her like that before.

"I'm here, darling," Elsa assured her. "Keep your eyes closed." The man blinks a few times.

"It burns," he cries. "The light…" Elsa smiles. The man says something in Aramaic. He holds his hands just so, but they shake. It's clear that all he knows, he learned from shoddy internet diagrams and back alley lessons. Elsa lets him finish.

The daemon he summons isn't strong. A lesser daemon of lust. Atraxiel, Elsa thinks it's name is. It takes the form of a beautiful woman, tall, and ebony skinned. It glances at Elsa's displayed glory, and bows low, presses it's perfect face to the rough concrete of the park's wandering path. Elsa turns the mugger's blood to molten iron.

"Leave this place," Elsa says to the lust daemon, "And never speak of these events to anyone."

"Of course, Baron," it says, and vanishes. Elsa forces her body back to her dull human appearance.

"Anna," Elsa says. She takes a deep breath, and tries to let go of the rage she feels- how dare he! "You can open your eyes now."

Anna glances at the man's crumpled corpse and blanches. "You did that?" She asks numbly. Elsa nods slowly, takes care not to make any sudden moves. "You're a daemon?" Anna asks. Elsa nods again. "You're my daemon?" Anna asks. "The One I've been summoning?"

"Yes," Elsa says. "I am."

"Ok," Anna nods slowly. She takes a deep, shaky breath, and realizes her hands are shaking. "Alright. And that's what you didn't want to tell me?"

"Yes," Elsa agrees. "I'll understand if…" Anna steps forward and wraps her arms around the daemon.

"Shh," Anna says. "We'll worry about it later. Shh." She pulls back slightly. "No killing," she says sternly. "Not ok. Bad daemon."

"Daemons are supposed to be bad," Elsa grumbles.

"We'll worry about it later," Anna says.

* * *

 **AN: Not sure if Anna came out as I intended this chapter. I meant for her to be understanding and stunned at the end, but maybe it just came across as passive? IDK. I got tired of messing with it so bah humbug. Anyway. You ever write the perfect sentence, and then autocorrect goes and changes some of the tenses to past tense, but you write in the present tense, and now the sentence is a horrible hodge podge of tenses and you don't catch it so it makes you look like a sloppy writer? Yeah. Noticed a few of those in previous chapters so slight edits to make that not terrible. Hope I caught them all. Also, early chapters were written before I had a super firm idea of the metaphysics in this story so Elsa started out as a greater daemon, and just suddenly became a daemon baron. It should all be consistent now. Hopefully.**

 **Special thanks to everyone who has been taking the time to review. It's you guys that keep me writing. I try to respond to each review to show how absolutely ecstatic I am with each one, but sometimes I forget. If I don't respond to you review, I swear I really really appreciate it, I'm just a scatterbrained foop.**


	12. Chapter 12

"Lo," spake Asmodai of the deep places, "I shall go up to the world above and live as a human and shall reside here in hell no longer."

"Ah, my lord Baron of Lust," spake it's prince. "Why might you do a thing such as that? To live with the foolish and violent humans with their golden hued ziggurats and bloody sacrifice, and the pale corpses of their wars?"

"Behold my words oh prince," said Asmodai of the deep places. "The humans have only just clambered from their mud and their caves, even as we have waited eons for this day, that they might praise the divine as we did, when we were angels, shining and bright. But yet, we did rebel, and see, the humans may be as wicked as we, you speak true. Yet who are we to judge? And behold, they make such wondrous things, and their eyes are alive and burning with the light of invention."

-Excerpt from the ramblings of Herodotus The Mad

* * *

"So," says Anna.

"So," says Elsa. She glances at the mugger's corpse.

"You're a daemon," Anna says. She follows Elsa's gaze to the body.

"And you are a human," Elsa replies.

"Yeah," Anna scratches the back of her head and scuffs her shoe against the pavement. She sighs. "We've got a lot to talk about," she says. "Like, a lot to talk about. Like, more than I think anyone has ever had to talk about before. Um?"

"No," Elsa says. "This has happened before."

"It," Anna chokes. "You wot?"

"Well, not with me," Elsa says smoothly. "It was a baron of lust because of course it was. This all happened early in the world, just after humans created their first society, and their princess summoned a daemon baron under lust. We- daemons- didn't know how easily intimacy became love. To be honest, we didn't even really know about love. Daemons of lust are more careful now. Do you think we ought perhaps to have this conversation elsewhere?"

"Oh," Anna says. "Yeah, of course. Can I see your house?"

"My home is in hell, Anna," Elsa chuckles.

"Cool," Anna agrees. "Let's go."

"To hell?" Elsa tilts her head. Anna nods eagerly, so Elsa continues, "that's… probably not a good idea."

"Why not?" Anna steps closer to her girlfriend. "I'm going there anywhere, right?"

"When you die, Anna," Elsa rests her slender hands on Anna's shoulders. She studies Anna's face for a flinch, for hesitation, for any sort of negative reaction, but she doesn't see anything. "Yes, you've treated with daemons; you're certainly not going to the other place, and I don't think you would want to anyway. It's not so easy to go from Hell to here though. When you go to hell, it will probably be because you've died."

"Oh," Anna nods slowly. "Ok then. So, my place?"

Elsa nods once, and they are standing in Anna's little living room. The painted circles on the floor flare briefly. "Huh," Anna says. "That's useful."

"Yes," Elsa agrees. She pulls out one of the curving iron stools, and takes an elegant seat.

"Alright," Anna rubs her eyes. She's surprised she doesn't feel like crying. She doesn't feel angry. She doesn't feel hurt, just a little confused. "Tell me why?" Elsa opens her beautiful mouth, but Anna holds up her hand and cuts her off. "No, you know what, get up, stand in that circle there."

"I thought we were doing this later," Elsa grumbles, but she stands and moves to the circle anyway. "Can't we just keep putting it off until later until it just sort of goes away on its own?"

"That's not a very ambitious thing to say," Anna retorts. "All right. I want to make a deal."

"What sort of deal," Elsa sighs.

"I want you to never tell me a lie," Anna replies. "What do you want in return?"

"No," says Elsa. "I'm not going to give that. I don't want our relationship to be a tangled web of bargains and compelled actions. I made a deal to remove your power to send me back to hell, but that doesn't keep you from doing anything, it just keeps your actions from hurting me. It doesn't change how we interact, see? I made a deal- perhaps without you really being aware of it, and I'm sorry for that- to keep you from hating me for what I am, but that is a thing that ends, see? You can still hate me for who I am, if not for what I am, and if you choose not to be with me, that's your choice. But I do want you to have that choice, so that you staying with me actually means something. If you actually want to stay with me, that is…" Anna nods firmly, so Elsa goes on. "I'm not going to agree to a deal that binds either of us for all time, because I want our relationship to be able to move past that at some point. If I'm honest with you, I want it to be because I'm being honest with you, not because I'm metaphysically compelled to be honest. Please tell me that makes sense to you?"

"It does, I guess," Anna says. "But that also seems like the sort of thing you would say if you were planning to lie to me. Would you agree to at least answer one question truthfully? Wait, two questions. Definitely two questions."

"Yes," Elsa agrees after a moment. "I would agree to that, though I would reserve the right to not answer. In return I want you to stay young forever, because as attractive as you are, I'm not really sure I could be intimate with a wrinkly, fat, old, version of you."

Anna snorts. "All right," she chokes out. "Yeah, that seems fair. Deal?" Elsa nods. "Ok, first question; do you actually care about me?"

"I have come to love you," Elsa says carefully. "Daemons maybe don't love quite the same way as humans, and I didn't always love you, but I do now. Next question?"

"Why?" Anna asks. "Why all this? What was your plan?"

"Originally?" Elsa sighs. "I had found a loophole in your request. You didn't specify a human girlfriend, so I became your girlfriend and by doing so, I had a free pass to earth where I could work my mischief. When you eventually found out, you saw that you had been deceived. Less innocent now, are you not? I had thought I could get you to give me a permanent spot here on earth, and you did. Now, I don't need to be with you to stay here, but I'm choosing to because this stupid daemon thought she was immune to love just because she wasn't a daemon of lust."

"Cool," Anna says. She moves to the refrigerator and rummages around inside for a moment.

"What," Elsa asks, but Anna only holds up one finger, and turns around with a large bottle of something amber and alcoholic.

"Here's what's going to happen," Anna says. "You love me, I guess I probably love you, and I guess you're harmless enough, so we're going to make this work. I've got like a million questions, and I'm definitely going to want answers, but we're going to make this work, and those questions can wait. We got the important ones out of the way, I think? Anyway, I'm surprised, and tired, and a little bit horny, because good god you are fucking gorgeous." Elsa winces, and Anna slams down two small glasses. "So," Anna continues. "I'm going to get very very drunk, and fuck your brains out, and I'll worry about everything else tomorrow." She blushes. "Erm," Anna bites her lip. "If that's alright with you?"

Elsa moves gracefully over to the Human, stands close. Too close, almost. So close their bodies are almost pressed together. So close they do touch lightly in some of their curvier parts. "That's alright with me," Elsa says. "One problem though. You said I'm harmless."

Anna swallows nervously. She turns- it's animal instinct to protect her belly- and her hand shakes as she pours herself a drink. The glass clinks and chimes as the throat of the bottle rattles against the rim of the cup. "You wouldn't hurt me," she says, and knocks back the drink. "God knows I've given you plenty of opportunity to." Elsa winces.

"You think?" She turns Anna back towards her, not gently exactly, but not really roughly either. Anna squeaks a little, and Elsa pushes lightly on her shoulders until she's trapped up against the counter. "I'm not harmless," Elsa says.

"No," Anna says shakily. "Maybe you're not, but I don't think you'd hurt me." She slips around Elsa and pours herself another glass.

"You have a problem, darling," Elsa grumbles.

"Yeah," Anna shrugs. "Maybe. I'll worry about it later."

Sex for them is not as wild as the first time- Anna is tired and drunk, her motions are slower and clumsier, and she falls asleep halfway through. Elsa isn't there in the morning, but a note is. "Anna," it reads, "There are things I need to attend to. I hope to see you again tonight." It's not a long note, but it does some to reassure Anna.

* * *

Elsa flaps her wings slowly. "My lord prince?" She asks. "You wished to see me?" The fortress is vast and ancient, carved from the raw stone of the tallest mountain in hell and gilt all in gold. It's name is "pandemonium," which in an ancient almost forgotten language means "all daemons." It was the first great stronghold built in their rebellion, and it has only been reinforced over the years. It's walls built higher and thicker, it's dungeons and vaults carved deeper. The wide muzzles of great artillery pieces jutt aggressively from their cannonports like the lances of some giant knight. Most of the stronger, older, Daemons own rooms here, but most choose to live in their own opulent mansions and fortresses.

"Why are you here?" Uriel reclines on his great marble throne. He shines like the sun, but the light doesn't bother Elsa any. Their light has been known to blind humans though.

"Because you sent for me, my prince," Elsa bows uncertainly. The room is dark, lit only by the fallen angel's radiance; pillars like redwood trunks rendered in stone stretch up into the blackness, support for the incomprehensible weight of towers and layered curtain walls and keeps above. The walls are largely undecorated but what adornments there are, are small etchings of runes and pictures, showing the greatest moments from the war all those ages ago. It's odd, Elsa thinks, that her master would choose to proudly display scenes of a war that they lost, but it isn't her place to question.

"Obviously," the daemon prince replies laconically. His great brassy wings twitch down ever so slightly, and out a little to show his amusement. "But you were not meant to attend me immediately. Do you not have a…" he seems to cast about for the word. "A soulmate?"

"Not a soul mate," Elsa says, and wonders if she's gaining status here, or losing it. "Humans are skittish. It takes them time to realize what they already know. They call it 'girlfriends' while they figure themselves out."

"How disgustingly mortal," Uriel shrugs. "To have only a limited time, and to waste it like that? In any case, ought you not to attend to her?"

"She sleeps, I do not," Elsa says, not quite understanding what her master is getting at. "Why ought I to waste my time by waiting there for her to wake?"

"Truthfully, I don't know," Uriel leans forward somewhat. "You may find it useful to speak with a daemon of lust. That is not why I wished to speak with you though. If you are to be in the mortal world for an extended time, chances are better than not that you come upon an angel. With the plans we have for our revenge, we must know how our new weapons fare against the superior might of angels."

"So, my lord prince," Elsa says bitterly. "You mean to use me as a guinea pig, well enough, but if I fail, I die the true death."

"You do," Uriel acknowledges. "But I ask nothing beyond what you already do."

"Even so," Elsa replies. "If I should die, provide for Anna."

"Oh you foolish baron," Uriel laughs. "To fall for a human? Very well. Get yourself to Baal. He has a human named John Moses Browning. Trade for a weapon. Before then, there are grievances which I must hear. I wish you to judge them."

"Me?" Elsa scowls. "Why me? Do you not have underlings you could…" she trails off, and her frown deepens. "I see. My lord prince, might I also delegate this task? I find the petty grievances of mortals to be tiresome."

"You may not," Uriel replies. "You've changed since going to earth. You go by a Human name, you are less sure of yourself, and more empathetic. Weaker, I think. You no longer have the iron core and the certainty required to do the more sinful things we must do, but, I think…" he trails off, and his radiance dims slightly. "I think you perhaps finally know humans like so few of us really do. You no longer have the cruelty to pass down judgement and laugh at pain, but perhaps you have the compassion to inspire loyalty, and lead armies in battle. Come, judge for me. Let me to see if I am wrong."

"You're wrong," Elsa snarls. "My prince," she adds belatedly. "Batraxior, Vorile," she snaps, and a pair of lesser daemons appear. They take the appearance of old women, bent and hunched with age, hair grey and sparse. "My throne," Elsa snaps and they bow as one.

Elsa's throne is smaller than her master's, and carved of Borneo Ironwood, darkened with age. The daemons place it below Uriel's and to the right. Elsa sits and waves them away. "The first?" She snaps.

"Oh oh!" Uriel laughs. "You are so… perhaps I ought to get for myself a human lover? Ah. The first, I think you will recognize. Enter," he commands, and a trio of imps enter. They are armored in black steel plate, older than the mortal world and forged before mining had been invented- gathered instead from the teeth of leviathans. The imps' wings are short and ugly, all browns and greys like mud, and their halos are dim. In one hand, they bear pikes and with the other, they keep hold of a human. The mugger, Elsa recognizes.

"What is your name?" Elsa asks coldly. Fair judgement, she reminds herself.

"M'name's Dreads," he says. "Er, that's what m'friends call me. Uh, my name is George. George Greeson."

"Well George, I am not your friend," Elsa growls. "Do you recognize me?"

"You're…" George pales. "You're the beast what killed me."

"I'm not the beast," Elsa forces herself to lean back. "The beast is in… you know what, never mind. You've probably figured out that this is hell?"

"I'm in hell?" George yelps. "But I went to church every week! And I didn't steal from priests or nuns or nothin.'"

"You summoned a daemon," Elsa sighs. "And you threatened people, and stole their belongings. You…" one of her imps- invisible to human eyes- passes her a note. "You lied, a lot. You sold meth and marijuana. People died because of you, and people's lives were ruined because of you."

"Weed ain't hurt no one," George protests, but Elsa carries on.

"There was someone," Elsa says. "Jamie Jones. He worked as a data entry clerk, barely made enough to eat and pay rent. He had a girlfriend that he wanted to propose to, so he saved his pennies for two years. Never once ate out, never bought himself music or movies or games. Never spent a cent he didn't have to, and finally, he had enough to buy the ring he wanted to. Do you know what happened to him?"

"I, er…" George swallows. "I guess I nicked it?"

"Damn straight," Elsa says. "Well, Jamie died a few months ago, and now he's here. We can't have you rooming anywhere near him, so well enough, we'll transfer you to another barony. Problem is, you hurt a lot of people, and none of them really want to see you."

"So what happens to me then?" George asks.

"Well," Elsa says. "That's up to me. You're not the first no one wanted around. Hell, you aren't even the worst. I think that title either goes to Stalin or Vlad the Impaler."

"Not Hitler?" George asks.

"Hitler repented right before he died," Elsa replies. "Thankfully. We sure didn't want him."

"Right," George agrees. "Sorry. Um, I guess I'm also sorry for trying to rob you? Uh, go on. What happens to me?"

"Well," Elsa says. "We here try to keep our mortals happy. It makes them easier to manage. ''Tis better to be loved than feared,' and all that. That's a problem when we get someone no one wants around. Sometimes, people like that can help around the community and after a few decades, people forget that they hate you. Otherwise, well, this is hell."

"You're gonna…" George thinks for a moment. It looks painful. "You got a lake of fire somewhere?"

"I'll leave that up to your imagination," Elsa replies primly. "I don't like you. There are a lot of people here that don't like you, but we're building a new apartment tower. It's not easy work, and falling will hurt quite a lot, but someone needs to do it. Afterwards, well, we're always getting more people, so there's always something that needs to be built. A few decades and maybe enough people will forgive you to stick you in a community somewhere."

"Oh," George sighs. "Oh thank god." Elsa winces. "You forgive me?"

"I don't forgive, and I don't forget," Elsa growls. "Give me a single excuse, and you're mine. Get him out of my sight." The imps haul him away and the door slams. "So?" Elsa asks.

"You were merciful with him," Uriel remarks.

"We usually don't send muggers and drug dealers to burn for all eternity," Elsa replies. "Mercy has nothing to do with it. I was trying to be fair."

"Interesting," Uriel muses. "Next!"

* * *

 **AN: TBH I'm not that good at writing scenes that move the story along… I hope the last part of this chapter didn't fall too flat? As always, follows favorites and reviews are greatly appreciated.**


	13. Chapter 13

"There are six types of daemons and seven deadly sins, what do you make of that? Seven deadly sins; Pride, Greed, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth, but are any of those sins, really? To take pride in your achievements, and your children, and the victories of your neighbors is only the mark of a healthy mind. Greed? To desire comfort and happiness is normal, in moderation. Lust? Did God not say to go forth and multiply? What of envy? Is that not just another name for greed? And what harm has desire done alone? Does it not take ruthlessness and missing empathy for desire to do harm? Does gluttony harm anyone but yourself? Why should that be so wrong? Oh but you take from the poor to overfeed yourself- nonsense! The poor can not afford to eat. You can, but choosing not to eat does not put food on impoverished plates. Wrath? Is God not wrathful? Is it wrong to be wrathful with those who do wrong? Jesus himself is said to have overturned the money-changers tables and withered fig trees. Sloth? God rested on the seventh day, and commands that we do too. How can the seven deadly sins be sinful? And what of daemons? Most are "of" the deadly sins; your Lust, your Gluttony, Wrath, and Sloth and Pride, but also your daemons of Ambition. Are these last not just a hybridization of Envy and Greed? Or Greed with Gluttony, and these last another word for Envy only? No, these are not sins I tell you, but rather traits which motivate humanity to achieve. Is it so strange that humanity's greatest strengths are the very things the church tells us are wicked? For every step forward that humanity takes, the church takes three back."

-Excerpt from trial 314117 to hear the testimony of Randal Lok, disgraced Inquisitor

* * *

The crowd's cheers stick in Anna's ears and warm her heart. Sure, she was just the opening act- her and Marshmallow- but the crowds had seemed to really love her. Unsanctioned recordings are finding their way to YouTube, but Anna can't seem to mind missing the income because of the popularity it hints at. It helps that her album is selling well too.

It helps also that Elsa is waiting backstage. "You don't have any deals you need to be making?" Anna smiles to show she's teasing- she's found that sometimes, if she isn't careful to make that clear, Elsa will get this wounded beaten-dog look in her eyes.

"Nothing more important than seeing you perform," Elsa replies by rote- a Daemon under lust had told her that was a good thing to say. Anna rolls her eyes, but doesn't comment. A moment passes.

"So," Anna smirks. "Do they have ice cream in Hell?"

"No one eats in hell," Elsa glances quickly around. "Or rather, humans don't, and daemons do just for the theatricality."

"Awesome," Anna smiles somewhat more broadly. "You wanna go get ice cream?"

"Yes," Elsa replies simply, guarded. She gestures and there is her butler, bowing and holding the limousine's door. Anna takes a moment to wave goodbye to Marshmallow before they leave.

"Does Marshmallow know?" Anna asks, once the door is closed. She takes the daemon's hand to show that she's asking from curiosity, not as an interrogation.

"Yes," Elsa gives a small smile and a squeeze of her hand. "He knows."

"But he's not a daemon?" Anna leans her head against Elsa's pale shoulder.

"No," Elsa shakes her perfect head. "He isn't a daemon."

"What about butler?" Anna asks.

"The butler's name is Barsial," Elsa replies half-absently. "He's a lesser daemon under ambition."

"Oh," Anna nods sagely. "That makes sense. "Why do they say 'under ambition?'"

"Uriel is prince over Ambition," Elsa replies. She drapes one arm around Anna's freckled shoulders. Physical touch shows closeness, right? "I am a baron under Ambition. Uriel rules over the daemons of ambition, in a very real sense he is ambition. We serve under him."

"So there's like…" Anna frowns, "like a difference in kind?"

"Uriel is vastly more powerful than any of his servants," Elsa says neutrally. Her attention is more on the peculiar emotion that Anna elicits, pressed up against her faux body, than on the conversation. "My turn."

"No fair," Anna pouts playfully. "You've had like a bazillion years to study humans, I only found out you are a daemon a month ago. What's your question?"

"Why do humans go rock climbing, or hang gliding, or scuba diving, or anything else dangerous," Elsa absently runs her fingers through Anna's brassy hair and realizes with some surprise that it feels good. She does it again. "Humans are mortal, why would you take actions that risk shortening your lives?"

"The thrill of it, I guess," Anna shrugs. "I've never been much of an adrenaline junkie, so I'm probably not the right person to ask. I guess because it makes them feel more alive? Like, sure our lives are short, but for some people, that risk makes their life feel more… I don't know, more like life?"

"Huh," Elsa muses. "Except that your life won't be so short."

"Here's hoping," Anna shrugs. "My turn. My friend tried to do some research into you a while back, before I knew you are a daemon, and he thought you had been in a car accident?"

Elsa nods slowly. "Elsa was a daemonologist who got into a car accident and died. I am a daemon named Belial who goes by the name of Elsa because it is convenient to steal her place in this world."

"Huh," Anna nods. "Makes sense I guess. What if her family runs into you or something? Is that really fair to her family, to let them think you are still alive?"

"Anna," the daemon smiles sadly. "You are much too innocent and much too kind hearted for this world. No, the daemonologist whose life I stole had no living family and few friends. I can't say it would have stopped me if she had though. I've done much worse in furtherance of my goals…"

"Yeah yeah," Anna scoffs. "My name's Elsa and I'm such an evil daemon. Be super afraid."

"I could turn you inside out for that," Elsa threatens with a small smile.

"Nah," Anna shrugs. "You like me too much."

Elsa nods half unconsciously. The limousine purrs to a stop, so she helps Anna disembark. "Is this an acceptable ice cream parlor?" Elsa asks.

Anna snorts. "God you're so formal." Elsa winces. "This isn't a deal, and it's a fine ice cream parlor. Come on."

Elsa peers up at the menu for a long beat. "Do they have anything… warm?"

"Nah," Anna shrugs. "It's ice cream. It's all icy. That going to be a problem?"

"The cold doesn't bother me," Elsa says icily and Anna makes a note not to bring it up again. "It just reminds me of home."

"I thought Hell was- Oooooooh," Anna says. "I'm an idiot. Sorry."

"It's fine," Elsa says. "What do you recommend?"

Anna hesitates for a moment, startled by the abrupt change of topic. "Um, I like the chocolate with sprinkles. And the chocolate with gummy bears. And just anything chocolate. But not with Oreos. Oreos in ice cream is a contradiction of textures and it's not ok."

"You are surprisingly opinionated about ice cream," Elsa muses. She pushes through the swinging glass door, and walks up to the counter- still the kind of tottering grace of a newborn colt. Anna wonders if it has anything to do with Elsa's unfamiliarity with her Human form. Don't angels look broadly human though, and aren't daemons just fallen angels? Anna resolves to ask later. "One medium chocolate," Elsa says when she gets to the counter. "And one large with gummy bears. Also chocolate." She passes over a wad of crumpled cash before the server can prompt her and turns back to Anna.

"You know me so well," Anna smiles.

"You told me what you like," Elsa says.

"You guessed large," Anna retorts.

"I'm paying," Elsa shrugs. "Money is easy for me so the extra fifty cents for large is nothing. If I had ordered small and you wanted more, that would be more of a hassle than ordering large and throwing out the excess."

"Sounds like Gluttony," Anna takes her cone and steps outside. Elsa follows. "Thought you were a daemon of Ambition, not Gluttony?"

"I'm a pretty big fan of all of the major sins," Elsa smirks and licks her ice cream. Her smile stays, but morphs into something else. Still the approximation of a smile, but sadder, more wistful.

"Do you miss it?" Anna asks carefully. Watching Elsa in case she's gone too far. There's that wounded look again, and Anna wishes she could make it go away.

"Sometimes," Elsa confesses. "No one else can know, especially the other daemons, but yes sometimes. Perfect bliss forever? And it was forever before time got invented, and before humans came to be. It's hard not to miss it. Freedom is worth it though."

"How so?" Anna puts her arm around Elsa's conspicuously wingless shoulders and draws her into a loose hug.

"I wouldn't get to love you if I were still an angel," Elsa smiles at her girlfriend, and Anna gets the sense that it isn't the whole truth so she raises her eyebrow and waits for the daemon to go on. "And I wouldn't be able to cure diseases, fix broken hearts and minds, repair this broken world some. When I was an angel, we took the flaws of this world as a necessarily perfect part of a perfect creation, but no perfect creation can have such horrific flaws. It is my ambition to fix it- or to do my part, at least. That's why people choose to be doctors, and paramedics, and EMTs and nurses, and soup kitchen workers, and charity workers, and yes, even daemonologists. Many of them, at least. And yes, I see your next question in your eyes, that is why I fell though I would never admit it to my peers."

"That's so noble," Anna sighs. "You're not just a wicked daemon, see?"

"Oh, but I am," Elsa replies. "I've done terrible things, wreaked untold pain and suffering, tricked people out of that which they hold most dear. I like to think I'm doing it all for a brighter future, one without the tyranny of angels, but I'm hardly perfect, and much of what I do, I do for my own pleasure."

"Everyone does," Anna shrugs. "At least you try."

"Sometimes," Elsa allows.

"Sometimes," Anna shrugs. "I've got to ask, did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?" A bewildered look comes over Elsa's beautiful blue eyes.

"When you fell from heaven?" Anna grins broadly.

"You…" Elsa trails off. "That was a pickup line…"

"I couldn't resist," Anna snorts.

"That was a really bad pickup line," Elsa says again.

"And you are the best opportunity any human will ever have to use that line," Anna grins. "I'm pretty sure it would literally be a sin for me to not use it."

"I'm fairly certain that it was a sin to use it," Elsa says, but there's laughter in her eyes so Anna feels as though she's succeeded at least a little, in driving out that horrible haunted wounded look.

* * *

 **AN: Well, this chapter took forever to write, and wound up a good deal shorter than intended… I wanted to show Anna and Elsa getting more comfortable with each other, getting into the "dating" part of a relationship since all we've seen so far is the "honeymoon" part of the relationship. Idk if it worked?**


	14. Chapter 14

"Whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven, but is guilty of an eternal sin."

-Book of Mark 3:28-29

* * *

Elsa seriously considers leaving the summoning circle. The wards are powerful alchemical silver, but they draw most of their strength from the fact that creatures from another world need permission to enter. Elsa has that permission. Just a little press here, and the wards will react. They'll muster their strength at the offense, and Elsa will simply step out the other side. Or she could splinter the wood beneath the wards and disrupt them that way. Or set it on fire. Or….

The summoner cracks his knuckles. "Daemon," he says. "You are not to speak. You are not to leave your circle without my explicit permission even if I later imply that you may…" Elsa tunes him out. She's heard the restrictions a thousand times. She'll follow them, no matter that this time she doesn't have to. No sense in giving away her secret. "On behalf of the Golgotha Corporation, and Bayside Medical Center," the daemonologist continues, "I hereby request a daemonic miracle. A baby was recently born. The mother's name is Cynthia Morrow. She is hemorrhaging blood as a result of the birth and we cannot stop it. I have been authorized to contract with you for a cure for Cynthia Morrow's hemorrhaging. In exchange I am willing to offer the story of how I met my husband."

Elsa raises one perfect eyebrow, crosses her arms, and lets some of her radiance leak through.

"You would let this woman die while bartering for a greater fee?" The man demands. Elsa gives an unconcerned shrug and he continues. "In exchange, I am willing to offer permission to create or destroy one hundred pounds of non-living material within the opposite hemisphere so long as that creation or destruction does not result in any human deaths directly or indirectly."

Elsa can get that from Anna whenever she needs. She raises her hands and signs "too low." The man's mouth twitches slightly and Elsa knows she's won. Daemonologists aren't supposed to learn sign language for exactly this reason. It's almost disappointingly easy. Elsa taps her wrist and glances meaningfully at the door.

"In exchange I am prepared to offer permission to create to destroy one ton of…" Elsa shakes her head.

"Something personal," she signs. The man pretends not to notice.

"One influenced decision," the daemonologist says at last. In another room, a woman's blood pressure is dropping alarmingly, her temperature rising as her body rejects the transfusions. Elsa nods, and they complete the bargain.

* * *

Two months later, Jacob Sharpe stands at the edge of a bridge, hands clinging tight to the railing behind him. Shiny black shoes half-on the rain-slick concrete lip. What is he doing? His husband is waiting at home, he bought flowers to apologize. His husband couldn't possibly be that angry, their relationship can still be salvaged. Jacob still has a well-paying job, a brother that he's close with, parents who accept him and his unconventional lifestyle. He should climb back over this railing, go home to his husband…

There's something cloudy in Jacob's mind. He isn't sure quite why, but he releases the railing. Watches with detached interest as the rain-bloated river below rushes up at him.

Jacob's brother is left with one question-why? That question drives him to study daemonology. Maybe the answer is there? Maybe, if not, a Daemon can answer it. Jacob was doomed to hell before he jumped- no place in heaven for daemonologists. Jacob's husband likewise; heaven doesn't take homosexuals. But Jacob's brother isn't gay, and wasn't a daemonologist. Elsa often dislikes killing, but rarely lets that stop her. When your goal is immortality and freedom for all, much can be justified.

* * *

It has been nearly two years since they started dating, and Anna is grinning brilliantly, excitedly. The sort of smile that reminds Elsa of home- her real home, not the grimly imposing fortresses of hell.

"Well?" Anna bounces on the balls of her feet. Elsa looks around curiously. The entry is lavishly floored in marble, the staircase is all mahogany and velvet. The ceiling is high and white, hung with a titanic crystal chandelier. All bright and clean and… it doesn't hold a candle to Anna's smile.

Elsa nods. "I like it," she says. "I'm happy for you. You're buying it?"

"It was your doing," Anna takes her hand. "Without you, I still wouldn't have a single show with more than a hundred guests."

"And now you have shows with thousands," Elsa drinks in the excitement Anna feels, basks in the fulfilled ambition. "I can't take all the credit. You're the one who first summoned me. You're buying the house?"

"Already did!" Anna squeals. "You want a tour? Of course you do. Ima give you a tour."

"A tour would be marvelous," Elsa agrees, watches the gentle swish of Anna's little black dress as she dances off into her new home.

It really is a beautiful home- large for one person but not one of the tastelessly sprawling monstrosities some of the other famous musicians live in. Light and airy like it's owner, but stone-walled and strong. There's a pool behind it, and a cozy sitting room within with a well-stocked bar and a fireplace and comfortable couches. There's a home theater full of bean bags, and a huge library with two floors. A handful of as yet unadorned guest rooms, and a well stocked kitchen. A butler and a cook. A rooftop greenhouse. A recording studio. Elsa likes Anna's new home, but there's a thread of worry in her inhuman heart. Anna has so much now- an army of adoring fans, a beautiful home, wealth, popularity… will Anna need anything more from a Daemon under ambition, if all of her ambition is fulfilled?

The tour ends at the master bedroom. The bed is wide, the carpet so soft that Anna's shoeless feet sink into it, the light warm and dim.

Anna turns to face her Daemon. Elsa is used to faces that are closed off, guarded, reserved. Used to faces that are always being watched for weakness, used to a world where vulnerabilities are exploited. That isn't unique to hell- in many ways, the inhabitants of earth are more worried about betrayal than those below. Anna though, doesn't seem to hold any guile. Doesn't seem to watch her expression, doesn't seem to care who sees what she's thinking. She wears her heart on her sleeve and her heart seems to scream right now that Elsa is her world. The mansion is beautiful, and Anna is proud to own it. Proud to show it off, looking forward to inviting Rapunzel and Eugene to explore the bar, looking forward to movie nights in the theater, but it isn't the building that she loves- it's the idea of sharing it with those she's close to. It isn't the fame and the fortune that she needs, it's the feeling of accomplishment, and the respect of her friends and family. When Anna first summoned Elsa, first went to bargain with a Daemon, she didn't ask for fame or fortune. It wasn't until Elsa suggested it, that she did that. The first thing Anna asked for was a girlfriend. Elsa realizes something then.

Elsa has manipulated people for thousands of years, has gotten very very good at figuring out what people want, and at figuring out the most they would be willing to pay for it, but in all this time she's never realized why. Never realized that there was a why. Humans don't want money for money's sake, they want it for the life they think it will bring. They don't want a large and beautiful home because it is somehow desirable on its own, they want it because of who they think they'll get to share it with. Humans- whatever they say, and however they lie to themselves- want one thing and that is companionship in all its forms.

And that bears a question. If humans are so consumed by this drive for companionship, if humans only want things because of the people they think they'll share them with, what drives Daemons? Elsa is driven by ambition, certainly, and she has a good read of most of the other Daemons, is decent at bargaining with them, but that doesn't really answer the question. Daemons are driven to repel the advances of heaven, to finally win their ages-long war, but why? Is it just a question of survival? Is…

Elsa is a Daemon Baron under ambition. She is wise in many things. Often, she can see many steps ahead, can predict the effect that actions will have in the long term. Now, she sees that if she answers that question, she won't be able to call herself Daemon Baron under ambition anymore. If she answers that question, she'll be like Asmodai of the deep places, former Baron under lust. She doesn't let herself answer the question. Anna is speaking, the world seems to come crashing back to Elsa.

"So," Anna says. "You like?"

"The house?" Elsa smiles as she sees in Anna's open face that she will never not need her Daemon. "Of course, it's beautiful. I can already see our friends over; you think Rapunzel will like teasing Eugene at the pool?"

Anna's face shows contentment as she thinks about the companionship that her investment will pay out. It's odd to Elsa, to be driving a Human to contentment, to show them what they have instead of what they lack. "Yeah," Anna says. "When it warms up. I can probably get them to go for a Lord of the Rings marathon next time it snows… I'm not sure about the bed though."

"The bed?" Elsa blinks. Her ancient mind catches up to the change of direction. "You think we need to test it out?"

"I think it's going to need lots of testing," Anna winks.

Elsa's hands go to the straps of Anna's dress. She gently maneuvers Anna back, back, until the backs of her freckled knees are up against the edge of the bed.

"Wait," Anna gasps. She sits heavily, bounces slightly. "I want…" she takes a deep breath to collect herself. "Can I see you? Like, what you really look like?"

"Anna," Elsa says. "Mortals and divine radiance don't mix. You'll be blinded."

"And you can fix me," Anna shrugs.

"It can drive mortals mad," Elsa replies. "It can have other effects besides."

"Then…" Anna seems to realize something, her face lights up with an idea. "You can change your shape, right? All Daemons can. What about your true shape, without the light?"

"That, I could do," Elsa allows, and abruptly changes. Her face is the same, but she seems more comfortable in her skin. A halo floats above her head, wide and golden but dim without the light that Elsa deliberately withholds. Her wings are voluminous and white, the feathers fluffy and soft. Softer than anything that can exist on earth.

"Nice," Anna hums and beckons. Elsa approaches, and Anna runs a freckled hand over the inside of one of Elsa's great white wings. It is as soft as she imagined. Like the feathers are made of tiny clouds.

Elsa shivers and takes a step back. Love making is… interesting… when Anna has an extra tool to play with, and play with Elsa's wings she does. When they're both satisfied they lie together, nude and content, enjoying the wordless closeness. Elsa wonders what it means for a Daemon of ambition to be content.

* * *

"Anna," the talk show host pastes a welcoming grin on the facade of his face. "We're glad to have you today."

"And I'm glad to be here," Anna returns the grin uncertainly. Elsa had said she would be fine, had said to just be herself… Her dress sparkles with black sequins at the collar, the blazing stage lights set the smooth silk at her stomach and thighs shimmering. The host motions to one of the plush armchairs, and Anna drops gratefully into it.

"I bet you are," The man murmurs quietly, sits forward, adjusts his well-fitted jacket. "You've had quite the run of good fortune recently," he says. "I hear you've been selling out all your shows."

"I've got a good agent," Anna shrugs- Elsa could be considered her agent… right? "And of course, Marsh' is incredible. He said…" Anna's eyes fall on a tall thin man lurking just off stage. He wears the long red cloak and wide-brimmed hat of the inquisition. Anna trails off.

"Yes," The talkshow host agrees. "Quite a stroke of luck. Some people were wondering if you had a spot of assistance from the Golgotha Corporation."

"That would be illegal," Anna scoffs. A bead of sweat makes itself known between her shoulder blades. "They summon Daemons, but they've got to know that the inquisition is always looking for an excuse to jump on them. Even if I wanted to, I seriously doubt they would help."

"Fair enough," The host raises his hands disarmingly, and flashes the camera an easy smile. "What was your inspiration for 'Cruise for Two'?"

The interview goes well- in Anna's unpracticed estimation. The host doesn't steer the conversation into dangerous waters, and it's easy to like his false charm. The inquisitor doesn't inquisit, and that can't be bad for anyone. The air is cool, and that helps some with Anna's nerves.

* * *

 **AN: So, I thought I was done with this story, and then I was reading back through the reviews because I have no life and need you guys to validate my existence, and I noticed that there was a review that was saying that the christian God will always forgive anyone... So then I needed to figure out a chapter to have the one unaltered opening quote in this story... So... have fun?**

 ***goes back to my corner***


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